The Warden's Rose
by RoksanaLyasin
Summary: The Blight has ended, but Alistair's thirst for adventure still drives him. He travels to Orzammar once more in response to a letter from the King. Deep in the Frostback Mountains, he never expected to encounter an apostate, nor had he believed that anyone could make him burn at a single touch - until he met Rokara. Alistair/OC. Rated M for violence and steaminess.
1. Chapter 1

**The Warden's Rose**

* * *

Chapter One

 _The Circle Tower_

 _Lake Calenhad, Ferelden_

She stumbled, the vibrations through the Tower becoming more violent. The clash of steel and the thunder of magic in the floors above no longer seemed so muffled. She threw herself into the stairwell, losing her footing in a pool of gore. She felt the slick of blood on her hands, but her fear drove her to her feet.

She reached the library, her breath heaving from her lungs. Her eyes darted, as fast as the frenzied thoughts in her mind as she sought a way to freedom. She averted her gaze from the corpses that littered the floor, not wanting to notice familiar faces scattered between the bodies of demons.

She made it only as far as a table before she ducked beneath the heavy frame. Armour clad men and women stomped past, a voice calling from the front.

'This floor is clear, head to the next and spread out. Exterminate all abominations.'

She held her breath, watching as steel-clad feet filtered past her vision. One pair remained, motionless.

The fighting had darkened the room. She slowly clamped her hands over her mouth, hoping her dark robes would obscure her into shadows.

She squashed the panic that rose inside her as he took a step towards her, but he faltered when screams echoed in the stairwell. He turned, sprinting in the direction of the Templar force. She waited only long enough for him to get out of sight before she sprinted out from under the table. She scooped up the nearest staff, ignoring the blood that soaked the grip.

 _Escape_.

She sprinted through the library, almost sliding into another pool of gore. Her thoughts raced, her ears straining for the sound of armour, but the fighting seemed to be behind her now. She focused on her goal, knowing she neared the basement stairs, but she was forced to duck into the shadows once more. She hid in the nearest room.

She only heard one set of heavy, armoured footsteps, but softer steps sounded. A tall, heavily armoured soldier passed first with a sword and shield, his armour and blade splattered with blood. She could not see his face behind his helmet, but she could tell that he was broad and strong: the weight of his heavy armour did not slow his determined steps.

 _Were there more demons on this level?_

She could not tell, but they had certainly been fighting.

'We must hurry,' a voice called, and a face she recognised passed. She hardly knew the older mage, despite their confinement in such close quarters, but she knew her name.

 _Wynne_...

Two more mages followed. One wore a ragged belt-lined skirt, her slim figure bared around the dark fabric that draped from her neck. Her black hair shone in the firelight, her staff at the ready. Beside her was another mage, the mage who had become a Grey Warden shortly after her Harrowing: Lilara. Her pale hair was tied in her customary bun, a few strands escaping. As an apprentice, her features had been soft. Now, she wore a hard, determined glare, but it did not mask her beauty.

Pieces fell into place quickly. Demons were loose in the Tower, and the Grey Wardens were here to clean house. She did not want to believe that fellow mages would be prepared to wipe out their kind, their friends, but she knew the Templars. They would not be above manipulation.

When their footfalls disappeared into the distance, following the sounds of battle, she made her way to the basement door. The normal magical barriers were damaged, the Tower slowly crumbling in places from the battle that had raged in the room, from the battle that still raged above. She heaved at the door, the hinges grinding as she gained purchase. The gap was small, but her petite frame slid through easily. Although she was only an apprentice, she knew what she sought.

 _What they stole from me_.

All the magic barriers that would have hindered her before were broken or fractured enough for her to destroy. She dared to hope as she reached the room she had dreamed of for so many years. In the shelves, shining among the rest, was her goal. She leant the staff against a shelf.

As she reached to grasp the phial, she paused, waiting for some invisible force to fling her backwards, but none came. Her fingers grasped the small glass phial. In her hand, the phylactery glowed brighter, blood recognising blood. She reached into her pocket, retrieving a length of leather cord. She secured the phylactery to it, then deftly tied the cord around her neck, tucking the phial and leather beneath her robes.

She gripped the staff once more, sprinting back up the stairs. Little stood between her and her escape. Her feet carried her on the route she had planned for months, her lungs burning with effort. Through a door, then another, her goal in sight.

As she reached for the handle, a heavy force crashed into her side. She slammed into the stone floor with a broken cry. She heard something crack inside her, blistering pain searing her right side. She gasped in a pained breath, looking up to see the rage demon approaching her.

Without a thought, she threw her staff up. Lighting cracked above, and the demon exploded, spattering her with gore. She held her side, her ribs aching as she stood. She gripped the staff for support, her hand finally touching the heavy handle of the external door. The turn was the most satisfying movement she could remember, a gust of fresh air filling her lungs as she heaved the heavy door open. She stumbled into the light. Her vision blurred, the pain in her ribs spiking as she stepped onto the bridge.

 _So close_.

Dark spots danced in her vision, and she stumbled. Despair rocked her. She had never thought she would make it so far, and now she had, her bruised and broken body was failing her.

She gripped the stone support of the bridge, her blood encrusted hand leaving a blotchy print. She gasped desperately for air, but each breath was more agonising than the last. No breath seemed to sate her lungs, and the dark spots spread. She lost her balance, plummeting into the cold embrace of Lake Calenhad.

* * *

A stab of pain woke her. Her teeth chattered loudly, the sound almost deafening. She dragged her eyes open, wincing, grit from the lake scratching beneath the lids. She pulled herself from the water, collapsing on the muddy shoreline. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, her body heaving, bringing up the water she had swallowed. A new wave of agony washed over her exhausted body. She knew she had to have at least one broken rib, and by the throbbing in her hand and wrist, the fall she had suffered after the demon attacked had damaged her already broken body further.

She dipped her hand back into the water, the remains of the blood washing away. Dark splotches were slowly blooming on her wrist.

 _The cold water probably helped_ , she thought wryly, not daring to flex her fingers.

She slowly knelt at the edge of the water, washing her face. Some of the grit cleared from her eyes, and although it was painful, she finally settled her breathing. Before her, a dark cloud surrounded the Tower. She thought she could still hear screaming from within, her mind flashing to recall the bodies that littered the floor. A strange calm settled over her. The horrors within had finally given her the chance she had waited for, becoming more desperate with each passing day.

She looked at her surroundings, hoping to see the staff washed up on shore. When she made it to her feet, she staggered along the edge, finding it a short distance away. She had to reach the docks. From there, she could hide in a cart. Traders travelled nearby regularly, the Circle Tower part of their standard route, and with their regular patterns, one should be at the docks now, waiting for daylight. She could end up in Denerim, Redcliffe, Orzammar: she didn't care. She needed to get as far away from the Tower as possible, as fast as possible.

She moved as quickly as she could. The Templars were occupied in the Tower, but she had no way to know if one remained at the docks. The frigid wind chilled her to her bones in her soaked robes, but a renewed rush of hope spurred her on. She would hide behind The Spoiled Princess, watching for the trader to return to his cart. The sun would rise soon. Once they had strapped the horses and climbed on, their focus on the road ahead, she would climb into the back.

As she neared the Inn, a voice called out behind her. She turned, knowing that in her drenched robes, an outright lie would fail her.

A Templar approached. She felt her veins fill with icy fear, her grip on her staff tightening.

'You, what are you doing here?'

His hand gripped the hilt of his blade. Although he moved slowly, the intent was clear. Carroll wasn't the brightest Templar in the lot, but all Templars were known for their distrust of mages.

'The Tower is under attack. The Grey Wardens are inside now,' she said, 'I got out, but I'm hurt. I fell from the bridge.'

'Hurt?'

'A rage demon. I think it broke my ribs.'

'There are demons in the tower?'

She heard the soft sound of his blade rising a fraction from the sheath. Her eyes darted down, eyeing the glint of metal revealed.

'Yes, in the upper levels. I was on the second floor with a friend. I hid in a room and then got out through the library.'

'And where is First Enchanter Irving?'

'He was in the higher levels. I… I have no idea if he is alive, but he is a powerful mage.'

'Powerful mages still fall.'

'What does that mean?'

'I have seen even the strongest of mages fall to the embrace of demons. I know you. You're only an apprentice. The Templars will be preparing to purge the Tower.'

Her fist tightened on the staff. 'I'm not in the Tower.'

'But you will return there. I cannot let you leave.'

'I'm not going back, nor will I be the first mage murdered in the name of the Right of Annulment.'

Carroll pulled his blade, but she was faster. Fire crept from the Templars armour, engulfing him. He screamed, his blade clattering to on the dense earth. His body landed with a heavy thud.

She moved quickly. There was no time to strap the cart herself. She limped to the gate behind the Inn, coaxing a richly coloured black mare over. Her grooming marked her as a Templar horse. She would be fast and strong.

The horse eyed her wearily as she unlatched the gate and approached, but soft strokes down its face calmed it. She found the standard Templar gear and grabbed the leather harness. The horse protested with a huff as she strapped it on, but it did not fight, even when she set the saddle on its back. Using the fence as a ladder, she eased herself up, gently soothing the mare as it whinnied.

'It's ok, you take care of me, and I'll take care of you.'

She gripped the reigns, riding into the night and away from the Circle of Magi.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of _The Warden's Rose_.

Click to the next page for more.

Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

 _Two Years Later_

 _The Frostback Mountains_

 _Ferelden_

Ice clung to her eyelashes. The trek down the mountain had been difficult but rewarding. Her bartering had earned her a hefty chunk of dear, enough to last a few weeks if she portioned it carefully. She heaved the carcass behind her, the cart making the heavy lifting easier. Even though she had only had Briella for a few months, she missed the mare dearly. The Frostback Mountains were no place for a horse, though. She had ensured that her horse, though stolen, went to a safe house where her nature and strength would be appreciated, and thanks to clever bartering, Rokara still had much of the coin she earned from the trade.

She reached the cave and quickly sliced the deer meat into smaller pieces, hanging it for smoking. The trader had delivered on their end, supplying her with the pre-salted meat as she had requested, allowing her to travel whenever she needed without relying on a fresh kill.

She had moved around frequently during her time in the mountains, and she had only occupied this cave for a few days. She would move again soon. Traders she had talked to mentioned that Templars were on the move nearby, searching for any apostate mages in the area. In the coming weeks, they would march over the border to Orlais.

For now, she focused on preparing. Her supply of kindling was low, and if she were to have a fire by the end of the week, she would need to bring some inside to thaw and dry.

She set out, bundling the sticks with woven cord as she went. She was almost ready to head back to the cave when she heard the unmistakable crack of wood and frozen leaves nearby.

 _Probably an animal_ , she reasoned. Despite the frigid conditions, many beasts roamed nearby. With the sudden hard edge to the cold, a blizzard was brewing. Any animal would be seeking shelter.

Another crack sounded.

She noted her surroundings, dropping low to cover her kindling. She crouched as she moved, zigzagging back to the cave. Still, she heard the occasional sound of broken sticks, her heartbeat spiking with each noise.

 _Something is following me_.

There were predators in the mountains. She could protect herself with her staff, but it was safer to be in the cave. The entrance was a bottleneck, and from a shelf high above the ground in the entrance to the cave, she could easily defend herself, safe from harm's way.

She climbed into the cave, then clambered onto the rocky shelf within and lay low with her staff, concealed by height and the darkness. Her ears strained, listening for the sound of padded steps. Instead, she heard the scrape of heavy plate, the clomp of weighted footsteps: the sound of a Templar.

After the events at the Circle Tower, mages that showed any signs of rebellion would have been marked as dangerous. Any who had escaped, as she had, would be deemed apostate. When the fighting had stopped, she knew that Knight-Commander Greagoir would have catalogued the phylacteries, and noted those that were missing. Her name was on that list. A few Templars had come close to finding her, but none had so far succeeded or lived to tell about her location.

She slowed her breathing, watching. A tall figure appeared, his shining armour covered in a dusting of snow. She could hear his steady breaths, warm puffs of misted air obscured his face as he braced his hands on his knees. He caught his breath for a moment, dumped the pack he carried, then hefted his shield from his back to lean it against the rock wall.

He walked further in, looking around. Her belongings were hidden further inside the cave, this room acting as a defendable entrance. From her vantage point, she could not see his face beneath the winged helmet. He didn't wear Templar armour, but he carried himself just the same as all the Templars she had seen at the Tower.

'Bloody blizzards,' he cursed, kicking a nearby rock, his back to her, 'I hate these mountains.'

In his distraction, Rokara slid down from the ledge. From the darkened corner, she watched him. If she were to stand beside him, he would tower over her; she would not be as tall as his shoulders without standing on her toes. Even though his armour accentuated his frame, without it, he would still be broad. His steps were aggravated, impatient. He pulled his helmet off his head, revealing neatly trimmed brown hair that with soft streaks of blonde scattered through it, the front spiked up with sweat from his trek.

She saw her chance. She held the staff out, placing it gently against the back of his neck. He stiffened at the contact.

'Pick up your shield and bag. Walk away.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't realise anyone was here. I got caught in–'

'Last. Chance,' she said, 'Leave.'

* * *

Alistair's neck bristled where the staff touched his skin. Shivers crept down his spine, but he remained still. He could reach for his sword, but only if he needed to.

'Please listen. I was travelling when the blizzard came. I am just seeking shelter.'

'Liar.'

He dropped low, scooping up his shield and drawing his sword. He spun to face his attacker but was forced to defend as an arcane bolt shot towards him. It ricocheted off his shield, dancing around the small cave before it dissipated.

He dared the peek above the shield. His assailant's shoulders heaved beneath the massive hooded coat. By its soft grey and white colouring, he guessed that it was wolf fur. The only part of their face he could see were their eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkened cave. In their gloved hand, they carried an enchanter's staff, much like the one he had seen carried by an old companion.

'You'll never take me back,' she said. Although the wrappings around her face muffled her voice, he could hear the distinct feminine ring.

'I'll be dead before I go back!' She cried, raising her staff.

'Stop!' Alistair yelled, defending himself from another bolt, 'I mean you no harm!'

'Templar scum!'

He tried to speak, but she hit him with a barrage of spells. His shield shook on his arm. He dropped it just in time when it froze, shards of ice threatening to spread up his arm. He raised his sword before him, his shield at his feet. He watched as fire circled her staff: she meant to burn him. Without his shield, he had to hope that his armour would be enough.

'I am not a Templar; I'm a Grey Warden!'

At the words she paused. 'A Warden?'

'Yes, a Warden. My name is Alistair. I've travelled from Redcliffe. I promise you; I have been through this way before seeking Orzammar. I was on the Imperial Highway when the blizzard swept over, but I remembered the location of this cave. I only seek shelter.'

She eyed him carefully. Her posture softened, but barely.

'You may stay here until the blizzard passes, but if I believe you have lied to me, I will not hesitate to kill you.'

'Cheery.'

The icy glare he received chilled his blood more than the Frostback Mountains had ever managed.

'Sorry, inappropriate timing.'

She ignored him.

'Follow me.'

Alistair gathered his gear and followed her deeper into the cave.

'What's your name?' he asked, nearly tripping on a rock.

'Rokara,' she said, 'for now, that's all you need to know.'

In the main chamber of the cave, Rokara rekindled the fire, stoking it until the warm glow filled the room. She lit a couple of lanterns, illuminating the moderate space.

'There is room over there for you to lay out a mat,' she said as she leant her staff against the wall.

He dropped his equipment but he dared not remove his armour yet. This mage was too unpredictable. He could feel her anger in the room.

'Why did you think I was a Templar?' he asked as he perched himself on a flat rock, his sword within reach.

'I will give you the benefit of the doubt here, and assume that you are not stupid Warden,' she said as she slid the hood from her head, revealing fiery-red hair, 'I am a mage living in a mountain cave. It is not a leap to imagine that I am an apostate. Templars have hunted me before, and I expect they will again.'

She slid the heavy furred coat from her shoulders, revealing a petite frame. She had slender arms and legs, her ill-fitted shirt hanging from her.

'If you're an apostate, where would I take you back to?' he asked.

She eyed him carefully through the cloth wraps around her face.

'You ask many questions,' she said, removing her gloves.

'I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry.'

He thought he heard her sigh.

'To the Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad, Warden. You may not be a Templar, but I know what the Grey Wardens would have done there when demons over-run the mages.'

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

'You're talking about the Broken Circle. I would never have accepted the Templar's plan, their desire to… to murder everyone without thought,' he said, his fists clenching on his knees, 'the whole concept of the Right is sickening. My best friend was a mage, and we sided with the mages in the Tower. We saved everyone we could save.'

She stared at him for a moment. 'You were there?'

'Yes. My companions and I fought to the top of the Tower and destroyed the demons and… we were too late to save them all.'

'I saw you before you entered the library. I was sure you were going to clear out the Tower. You were with Wynne and two other mages.'

A small smile pricked his lips. 'Even if I were that way inclined, Wynne would have killed me if I had tried.'

'And the other two mages?

'Morrigan, a Witch of the Wilds. I didn't like her much, but she is a fierce woman. Powerful, but surprisingly willing to help. And–'

'Lilara,' Rokara said. Alistair looked up at her, as she continued, 'she came to the Circle the year before me. I knew her before she was a Warden.'

He glanced down to stare at his gloved hands, but she saw moisture glisten in his eyes. He blinked hard, trying to conceal the tears before they could fall.

'Lilara… was my best friend. I know what the Tower was like,' he whispered, 'I don't care if you're an apostate. The mere willingness to allow me to stay here when you're obviously already scared tells me that your past scars you, but that deep down, you're still good.'

Her anger faltered at his words.

'Thank you.'

He looked up. Slender hands unwrapped the fabric that protected her face and ears. Her hair fell around her cheeks, hanging past her shoulders, but it did not hide her fine features. In the light of the fire, he could see that her eyes were golden: they sparkled like molten metal. She had high, sharp cheekbones and a fine nose with a delicate point. Her lips were a rich honey brown tinged with a blush of pink. He found himself mesmerised for a moment as she crouched beside the fire, placing another log on it.

She brushed her hands off, warming them for a moment before she reached up, sweeping her hair behind her pointed ears.

'You're an elf.'

She eyed him sharply, 'and you're a human.'

His cheeks flushed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean– I was just…'

'It's ok,' she said, 'I'm used to it.'

He wrung his hands together. 'I'm sorry, I've not encountered many elven mages. It just made me think of the Circle again. My friend, she was a human, a noble at that. The things she endured there… I imagine you experienced worse.'

She smiled softly. 'Possibly. Everyone experiences the Circle differently. Mine was indeed a poor experience.'

'How so? If you don't mind me asking, that is.'

'When I arrived, they told me I was free now, but that was never true. Although strictly speaking, being a mage in the Circle is not slavery, the reality is that you are no more than a prisoner, placated with better food and lodgings. If you're lucky.'

'I know,' he said, quickly adding, 'vicariously, I mean.'

She stood, smiling again at his embarrassment.

'Tell me, what are you doing out here alone? Wardens normally travel together, don't they?'

'Usually, yes,' he said, 'but after the Blight had ended, I wanted to travel. I spent a long time in Redcliffe rebuilding, but Arl Eamon had everything under control within a year. I thought I could be of more use elsewhere.'

'So to where are you travelling now?'

'Orzammar. I have friends there. They wrote to me while I was in Redcliffe requesting that I return to the city. The dwarves have been making headway in the Deep Roads regaining some of the lost Thaigs.'

'An adventure,' she said. She untied a cloth bag, pulling some bread out of it. Hanging over the fire on a frame were strips of freshly smoked meat. The smell had taunted Alistair when he had arrived, but he thought it impolite to request food from her. She grabbed a generous strip from a hook, breaking it in half. She approached him, offering him half of the smoked deer and half of the loaf.

'You look hungry,' she said, 'I saw you glancing at the food as soon as you walked in.'

He smiled sheepishly. 'Thank you.'

* * *

Even sitting down, he was almost as tall as her. Close up; she finally took in his appearance. He had soft lines on his face, laughter lines that formed light creases around his eyes. His features were refined, noble, almost, with a straight nose, defined cheekbones, and a strong jaw dusted with stubble. His full lips looked firm, but when he smiled at her, they softened. His dark eyes stared up at her as he took the bread from her hand.

She broke away first, moving to a crate. She dug out a heavy fur and took it to him. 'You'll need this.'

'Why?'

'Because we're in the Frostback Mountains, in _winter_. It's freezing, and I can't imagine that you sleep in a full set of heavy armour. The fire will keep us warm for most of the night, but if neither of us wakes to tend to it, it will burn down, and it will be very cold in here come morning.'

'Right, fair point,' he said, accepting the fur, 'is this from a bear?'

'Yes.'

'Did you buy it?'

'No, I killed it, just like I killed the wolves to make this,' she said, directing his eyes to her coat, 'as you'd have noticed, it's cold up here. I certainly wasn't going to freeze to death after I escaped the Tower.'

'I can't imagine it was easy to fight a bear by yourself.'

'To be honest, it was harder to kill it without singing the fur than to kill it at all,' she said with a small smirk as she settled on the mat opposite from him, the fire flickering between them.

He found himself smirking too. 'May I ask one more question?'

'You may, but I won't promise to answer it.'

'If you were trying to escape, why did you stay so close to Lake Calenhad?'

She considered how to answer such a question.

'When I was eight, I was taken to the Tower. Not by choice. Someone I trusted, a new Templar, kidnapped me. I will not leave Ferelden until I take the life of the man who took mine,' she said, 'he is somewhere nearby, close to the border between Ferelden and Orlais, which is why I have remained in the Frostback Mountains.'

'Who was it?'

'That is none of your concern,' she said as she doused the lanterns in the room. She lay down on her mat, spreading the heavy fur coat over herself, 'I suggest you get some rest.'

'Rokara?'

She sat up on her elbow. 'Yes?'

'Why don't you come with me to Orzammar? The Templar you seek, well, if he is in the area, the traders there may have heard something. Templars tend to stick out.'

'As do mages.'

'Not when travelling with me. Best friend was a mage, remember? We helped the dwarves when we were last in the city. They are not perfect, but they are also much more accepting of mages than they used to be. You'll be safe, I promise.'

'That's quite an oath to make.'

A smile lit his lips. 'It's a Grey Warden thing. You can always count on us to keep them.'

She stared at him for a moment, her gaze assessing, but the longer she held his dark eyes with hers, the more her stomach fluttered.

'Okay, Alistair, I'll come with you.'

His smile brightened.

'Get some rest,' she said, tucking herself beneath the fur once more, 'it seems that we've got a long trek ahead of us.'

She rolled to her side, facing away from him. He likely wouldn't appreciate an elf watching him undress, but she found herself listening to him shed his armour. She heard the scrape of metal against metal and the creak of leather straps, and then the rustle of the bear skin as he settled.

She listened to the sounds of the fire. Over the crackling, she could hear his breath deepen. She dared to peek over her shoulder. His back was to her. As she suspected, his shoulders were broad; the fur that he had draped over himself barely reached the ground. When he shifted, she saw his muscles flex beneath the shirt that seemed stretched to breaking over his shoulders.

She turned back over, biting her lip. As she drifted off to sleep, she had no idea that he dared to glance over at her.

* * *

He struggled to sleep. After much fidgeting, he rolled to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. It felt strange to watch someone he barely knew, but curiosity tugged at his nerves. He believed that she suspected he would judge her desire for revenge, but instead, he had more questions: who was this man who betrayed her? What was her life like growing up, for her to be taken to the Tower and to fear it? How was she treated at the Tower?

Lilara had told him much about Tower life when he had probed, but he had always suspected that she softened some of her descriptions. It wasn't a stretch for him to imagine that Rokara's elven heritage had only made it more difficult living under the thumb of Templars.

He watched her for a little while longer. The fur coat rose and fell with her steady breaths. The coat covered most of her, but her pointed ear peeked from beneath her hair. A small silverite cuff sat just below the point, glinting in the light of the fire.

He felt his face flush with embarrassment again. He was so enraptured by her delicate face, so caught up in her ethereal beauty, that he hadn't cared what manner of creature she was: she could have been a demon, and he would have accepted his eternal sentence in this cave if only to gaze at her a little longer. He realised in his musings that her eyes should have given it away: when she had first faced him in the smaller cave opening, they had glowed in the darkness, a marker of her heritage. But when he had wanted to compliment her beautiful eyes, his words had got away from him, as they often did. He had blurted out his realisation, his sudden understanding of her hatred for the Circle and the Templars. He had been insensitive, had probably offended her, but still, she offered sanctuary and warmth to him, a stranger.

He settled down further beneath the fur, lying on his back. His head rested on his folded hands, and he stared up at the ceiling of the cave. The fire cast flickering shadows. For a while, he watched them dance above him.

 _She probably thinks I'm an ass_ , he thought, _she has no idea how beautiful she is._


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Alistair woke to movement in the cave, his stomach grumbling. As he rolled to face the fire, he was surprised to find a small pottery plate before him with a piece of smoked deer, a chunk of cheese, and a small roll of freshly baked bread. A cup of water was beside it.

He glanced up, looking for Rokara. She was sitting on her mat, nibbling on the remains of her breakfast, her eyes downcast.

When he sat up, she looked at him.

'Morning,' she said between bites, 'did you know you snore?'

He flushed, and she stifled a giggle.

'I did,' he said, 'I hope I didn't keep you awake.'

'You didn't. I noticed it this morning when I woke up. You should sleep on your side,' she said, then pointed at the food, 'we won't get to stop to eat today until we find shelter, so I suggest you fill up now. I've packed the rest. We'll have enough food to get us to Orzammar.'

'Thank you,' he said, once again surprised by the gesture, 'I appreciate you accommodating me. You could have kicked me back out into the cold.'

'Well, as you know, that's what I was planning to do, but I guess you're not so bad,' she said, 'to be honest, I misjudged you. I'm sure you can understand that I'm used to being treated in a certain way, so I reacted to you in the same way I used to react to a heavy-handed Templar. That wasn't fair.'

She took a breath. 'I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm sorry. And although I'm not ready to…' she shook her head, 'trust isn't the way to put it. I'm willing to respect you because you have treated me with respect which I have seldom received since I was taken to the Tower.'

A renewed wave of embarrassment washed over him at her words.

'It's common decency,' he said, 'anyone who thinks different, is no friend of mine.'

She smiled softly at him.

He shifted on his mat, facing her fully. 'Rokara, about what I said last night–'

'It's okay Alistair–'

'No it's not,' he said, 'and I want to explain myself. Words get away from me, more often than I would like to admit. I am not silver-tongued in the slightest. I knew you were an elf when you first approached me; it just hadn't clicked yet. So when we were talking about the Circle all I could think of was how difficult it must have been for you to face not only your apprenticeship as a mage but also the… the abuse for being an elf, for being who you are. It struck me just how much you would have endured, yet you are still kind, and–' He broke off, turning away. 'I really can't express how much I appreciate your hospitality when most humans have probably treated you poorly.'

'Not all of them, though,' she said.

He glanced at her. A soft smile lit her lips. 'But that,' she said, 'is a story for another time. I am not ready to share it. One day, I want to be able to tell you.'

 _One day_ , he thought, _does she mean that she will stay with me, in Orzammar?_

'I've had little contact with others since I escaped the Circle, but it seems we have been brought together for a reason, whatever that may be,' she said as she picked at her food absently, 'I hope we can be friends, Alistair.'

'Me too.'

* * *

The Sun was still rising when they set out for Orzammar. They had stocked their packs with the food Rokara had prepared, and water from a natural spring in the cave. The hike was challenging, but Alistair's fitness surprised her. Despite the heavy armour, he never faltered, his breath steady behind her. She led the way, insisting on staying off the road, even if the walk would be easier.

'There are Templars moving in the area, heading to the border with Orlais. Until I have dealt with– let's just say I don't feel safe on the road,' she said when he questioned her, 'they do not trust mages, and if they search me, they'll kill me on site. The closer we get to Orzammar, the closer we can hike to the road. It will be easier.'

He wanted to question her further, but the steep incline made it difficult. He decided to save it for when they made camp.

When the sky began to darken, they found shelter in the husk of a giant fallen tree. She went in first to set up their belongings: Alistair couldn't stand up inside with his armour on and had to remove most of it before he entered.

They ate together, leaning against opposite sides of the rough interior of the trunk.

'We should be at Orzammar by late tomorrow if we make use of the daylight,' she said, 'I'm sorry that we've stayed off the highway.'

'It's fine. I understand your caution. But, may I ask what you meant when you said they would kill you on site? Why?'

He tore off another chunk of bread. She stared at her food, seeming to search for the words. After a moment she placed her bread back on the piece of cloth. She reached beneath her shirt, pulling a long leather cord from beneath. Tied on the end was a shining crystal.

'Do you know what this is?' She asked. She moved closer to him in the confined space, but when he reached for it, she drew her hand back.

'Is that a phylactery?'

'Yes,' she said, turning it gently in her fingers, ' _my_ phylactery. The Tower was damaged when I left it; the magic defences were broken or breaking, susceptible to damage. So I took it, knowing that without it, the Templars would struggle to hunt me down.'

'But why have you kept it?'

She still turned it in her fingers. 'As a reminder. This phylactery represents…' she paused, turning the words over in her mouth, 'the Templar that betrayed me, Antonius, this phylactery represents his betrayal. It represents the violation I experienced when I arrived at the Circle.

'What do you mean?'

'They do not ask for your blood, Alistair, and if you are unwilling, they take it by force. It ensures compliance. I was never a willing prisoner. Although I did not overtly act up like others, I believe Knight-Commander Greagoir was suspicious of me, that he thought I had too much fight in me.'

'Rokara, I need to tell you something.'

She looked up from the shining phial. 'Yes, Alistair?'

'Before I became a Grey Warden, well…' He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down. 'I never took my vows, and I hated the monastery, but I was… I was trained to be a Templar. I was sent there when I was young. I had hoped I would never be forced to take my vows, and I'm thankful that Duncan saw something in me. If he had not invoked the Right of Conscription, I might have been one of the Templars that caused you such misery.'

He felt a delicate hand touch his. He peeked up, her golden eyes gazing softly at him.

'You have not judged me for my past, Alistair, nor even my intent to harm another in revenge. It would hardly be fair if I judged you.'

'You're not mad?'

'You're not dead, are you?'

She laughed at his shocked look, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. 'Well, I suppose not, although, we are going to have to go to sleep soon. Will I wake up in the morning?'

She shrugged. 'As long as you don't snore too much.'

They laughed again, and she hit him gently when he snorted, making them laugh more. They continued eating as they chatted. He talked about the relief work he did in Redcliffe after the Blight ended. She told him how she had survived for so long in the mountains, and how she had made her wolf-fur coat.

The more they talked, the more he became enthralled in her story. He wanted to learn more, but he also feared he would push her away.

The darkness became thick, and, without a fire, they huddled down on their mats in the tight space, trying to keep warm. She faced her back to him as she had the night before, listening to his breaths as they became deeper. He fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the trek. She found it calming, to hear the sounds of another being nearby after years of near isolation. She remained awake a little while longer, listening to his steady breaths and thinking about what they had shared that day.

She wondered if it was just because it had been so long since she had substantial contact with another person, but she found talking to Alistair easy, even comforting. When she offered some of herself, he offered his own piece back. Their conversations flowed like a dance between them, warming her lonely mind. He had asked her to stay in Orzammar for a while. For a moment, she thought he was going to ask her to stay with him. Hope had welled in her, but she crushed it. He was a human, an attractive one. She hoped they would be friends, but she knew that there could be no more between them.

He had promised to help her locate Antonius after they arrived, but he had pushed no further on who he was to her, and she had been thankful for that. She had almost told him, but deep down she knew that she was not ready to share that story.

 _Soon_ , she thought before she drifted off.

* * *

Alistair woke as the sun rose, the cracks of light breaking through the ancient tree trunk. Despite the cold air, the trunk was warming. Barely conscious, he snuggled into the thick fur of the bear-skin.

 _So warm_ , he thought.

He inhaled deeply. The fur didn't smell as unusual as it had the night before. Being in the fresh air while they travelled had made it smell softer, sweeter. As he started to stir more, he wondered if Rokara was already awake, as she had been the day before, but he couldn't hear any noises apart from the creak of trees and a soft breeze outside of the trunk.

He pulled the furs tighter against his chest, a broken moan tumbling from his lips. He realised now why he had woken, his pants straining to contain his aching length. He dipped his hand down, adjusting himself.

The fur he had snuggled against stirred.

He finally cracked open his eyes and was met with a wall of fiery red.

He stifled a cry, scooting backwards in the small space. He held the fur against his chest, flushing. He realised now why he was aching. He had tucked himself tightly against her back, his body reacting as could be expected with his hips lined up with her lithe body.

She stirred, rolling onto her back, oblivious.

'Is it daylight? We should get moving,' she said as she sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She glanced at him, and he quickly dropped the fur from his chest. 'I didn't hear you snore last night,' she said as she stretched, 'did you sleep well?'

'Mmhmm, great,' he said, flashing a grin as he clambered to his feet, 'I, ah, nature calls!'

He hurried from the trunk.

Rokara watched him leave. Clearly, he was busting. She set out some food for him to eat when he returned to strap on his armour and then took care of her needs, making sure to go in the opposite direction. When she returned, she rolled up their mats and tied them to the base of their packs. Before she left the relative warmth of the trunk, she put her wolf-fur coat on, then hauled their packs out. Alistair was strapping his pauldrons on nearby, a chunk of bread held precariously between his teeth that he absently chewed.

She pulled the straps of her pack onto her shoulders, then helped Alistair with his before securing his shield to the back.

The set out in the frosted air, Alistair a little quieter than usual. Rokara assumed he was still tired from the heavy hiking the day before.

She had no idea that he was still blushing under his armour.

The trek was easier. As Rokara had promised, the closer they moved to the road as they neared Orzammar, the more forgiving the terrain. With a few miles left to walk, they stopped to snack on some smoked deer. Alistair became talkative again, only stopping when Rokara clapped a hand over his mouth.

'What?' he asked, his voice muffled.

She hushed him. 'Listen.'

He strained his ears. After only a moment, he heard a distinct rustle nearby.

He glanced at her, nodding. They both stood slowly, their weapons ready. Alistair picked up his shield, his back to hers.

A fallen branch snapped nearby, their eyes drawn in the direction of the sound. Heavy steps approached, moving quickly.

'Bear,' she whispered. Her staff began to glow.

He crouched, planting his feet. It emerged from the trees at their side. They remained still, but they knew they were down wind. As soon as it came into view, the bear's eyes locked onto them, a harsh growl sounding.

Alistair darted in front of Rokara as it charged, meeting it head on with his shield. The blow echoed around them. Alistair stumbled back, but he regained his balance quickly, bashing his shield with the hilt of his blade.

The bear rose on its hind legs, towering above Alistair, but he did not falter.

'Come on!' he yelled.

Rokara cast her spell, freezing the bear in place. Alistair's shield dropped, and he thrust his sword forward. When the spell wore off, the bear dropped lifelessly to the snowy ground.

He turned to her. 'You okay?'

'Fine. You?'

'Unscathed', he said. He crouched beside the bear. 'Shame.'

'It probably tracked our scent,' she said, 'I would normally take its skin, but we can't afford the extra weight. It will not go to waste, though. Plenty of creatures need to eat, and bear meat certainly isn't the worst option.'

He nodded. They picked up their packs again.

'We made a good team back there,' he said as they walked.

She glanced at him. 'We did.'

He smiled, and they continued to Orzammar.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

 _Orzammar_

 _Ferelden_

Night was falling as they approached the entrance to the city. They entered unhindered. She had heard that, since the end of the Blight, dwarven relations with the surface had improved, but she was still surprised that they had passed the gates so easily. All the books she had read in the Circle about dwarven-surface relations had been pessimistic.

As they descended into the city, she found herself staring up at the high ceilings and the stonework around them. She had seen only drawings of Orzammar, and they failed terribly at recreating the grandeur and beauty of the city. Pushing the darkspawn back past the trenches had given Orzammar access to many lost resources, and the city shone as a result.

'Who is this 'friend' that we are meeting with?' Rokara asked as they walked. Now that they were inside the city, she had removed her hood and unwrapped her face, draping the fabric over her head to cover her bright hair and ears. Although in her experience elves and dwarves got along quite well, she did not want to draw any more attention to herself than she already had. She glanced around them. She had already felt some people staring at her, but there was little more she could do. She stood out in the pale wolf-fur, walking with such a tall man. Plus, it was difficult to conceal a mage's staff, especially when it was as tall as her.

'Bhelen. I sent him a letter in advance, so he will be expecting me.'

'But not me.'

Alistair noticed that she had stopped.

'Dwarves may not be used to seeing a lot of mages, but I promise you, no one will harm you here.'

She nodded, seeming to bite her tongue. She caught up with him as they approached another heavy door. Guards were posted outside.

'Good to see you, Thetin,' Alistair said. He removed his helmet, smiling down at the stocky dwarf before him.

'By the ancestors… Alistair, is that you?'

Alistair took his hand, each gripping tight for a moment.

'It is indeed. It's been a while.'

'It has, old boy, it has. What are you doing in Orzammar? Another trek through the Deep Roads?'

'Possibly,' Alistair said, 'Bhelen wrote to me. If my return letter arrived as it should have, he would be expecting me.'

'I'll take ya' right to him. This time of the day, he'll be at the Palace.'

Thetin and his fellow dwarf heaved the door open.

'I'll be back in a mo',' he said to his companion, leading the way.

Rokara fell into step beside Alistair.

'Palace? As in Royal?' she whispered beside him.

Alistair nodded.

'Why didn't you tell me your friend is the King of Orzammar?'

'Well, to be honest, I had hoped it would impress you, I guess. Before the Blight, I came here to call the dwarves to arms and invoke a Grey Warden treaties, but there was no King on the throne. We tried to reason with both parties but ended up assisting Bhelen. Harrowmont wasn't bad, per se, but he was... backwards, an isolationist. Bhelen was a reformist. He wanted to bring prosperity back to Orzammar, and he certainly has.'

'Good to know,' Rokara said. She threw him a quick smirk, 'and yes, I am a little impressed if I'm honest. I've never met royalty before.'

'Oh, just wait until I tell you how I could have been claimed the throne.'

'What?' she hissed, but any further questions were cut off.

'Here we are,' Thetin said as he opened the door to the Palace for them, 'I best get back to my post. I'm sure I'll see ya' for a drink later, Alistair.'

'Sure will.'

They entered the Royal Palace. It was abuzz with activity. Alistair led the way; he had clearly walked the halls before, his steps confident. They entered Throne Room, finding Bhelen huddled around a desk full of maps and papers, speaking with some other dwarves who wore full armour.

Bhelen looked up as they entered. 'Alistair!' he boomed, abandoning his discussion and the table. He approached, a smile partially concealed by his beard. He took Alistair's hand firmly, just as Thetin had. 'You made it.'

'Of course,' he said, 'can't resist a good fight with some darkspawn.'

'That's my boy,' he said, clapping Alistair on the elbow, 'we'll talk strategy in a moment. First, you must introduce me to your beautiful companion.'

He held his palm out. Rokara placed her hand in his, blushing as Bhelen bowed and gently kissed her, just above her knuckles.

'This is Rokara,' Alistair said, shaking off a strange bristling of jealousy as Bhelen stared up at Rokara as if in wonder of her, 'she was on her way here also when I stumbled into her cave. She sheltered me, and we decided to trek here together. I am hoping that she will be able to assist us in the Deep Roads, though I will leave that up to her.'

'Any friend of Alistair's is welcome here,' Bhelen said, 'if there is anything I can do for you, my dear, simply ask.'

Bhelen turned to his companions. 'We've made steady progress, friends. We'll resume later.'

They nodded, gathering their things and leading the way out the door, talking to each other as they went.

'Let me take your pack, my lady,' Bhelen said, 'I am sure it is a burden after you have travelled so far.'

She felt her cheeks flush. 'Oh, I'm fine. Thank you.'

'I insist.'

'I… okay. Thank you, your majesty.'

He shouldered the pack.

'Please, call me Bhelen.' He smiled at her, then glanced to Alistair as they exited the Palace. 'I dare say your journey has been long,' he said, 'I have already prepared accommodations for you in the Diamond Quarter, not far from here. There are plenty of extra rooms for your friends. When I wrote to you, I sent word to your companions also. Wynne and Shale responded. I almost wrote to Lilara, but when I put pen to paper I remembered… I'm sorry for your loss Alistair.'

'She would have been glad to return to Orzammar.'

Bhelen cleared his throat after a moment. 'Rokara, if you would prefer, I can arrange a separate house for you.'

'Thank you, Bhelen,' she said, 'I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't want to trouble you anymore than I have. You have already been very hospitable despite not expecting me. As long as I have a room, I don't mind staying in a house with Alistair if he doesn't.'

'Not at all,' Alistair said hurriedly. He nearly grimaced as Bhelen threw a smirk at him, but Rokara was oblivious to the silent exchange between the two men.

He stopped before a large gilded door.

'Here we are then.'

Bhelen took a large key from his pocket, unlocking the door. The entrance was modest, but a short way down the hall, she could see a large, well-appointed common room. They followed Bhelen further in, and he set her pack down beside a massive plush lounge.

'I'll leave you to settle in,' Bhelen said, leaving the key on the table between the two lounges, 'join me for supper in an hour if you please. I'll have someone bring you more comfortable clothes. If there is anything else you require, please do not hesitate to ask.'

'We'll see you shortly.'

Bhelen left, and they were alone once more.

'Wow,' Rokara breathed. She dropped her coat on the back of the couch, 'I just met a King.'

'Anything like you expected?'

'He was so… nice,' she said.

'I'll let you pick your room. We could both use a warm bath, I think.'

'It's been two years since I've been in water that wasn't freezing. This day keeps getting better,' she said, glancing down at her clothes, 'especially if I get new robes. I feel greedy for accepting such kindness, but, well,' she pulled at the loose top that engulfed her slight frame beneath the coat, 'these are clearly not mine. I am relieved that Bhelen didn't notice.'

'He seemed enamoured by you.'

She flushed. 'I'm sure he was just being polite.'

'Doubtful. He has good taste.'

She looked up from the lounge. Something flared through his gaze, something heated. Alistair, who seemed so easily flustered, held her gaze intently. She felt her heart kick hard in her chest. She stood, shaking off the feeling.

'I'll see you before supper,' she said, grabbing her pack. She hurried to a room, picking the first one she came upon. Her jaw nearly dropped from her face as she stared at the massive bed, carved directly from the stone. Ornate patterns filled the sharp edges, knots that seemed infinite. She set her pack down by the door, walking further into the room. The ceiling wasn't as high as it had been in the common room, she noticed. Beneath her feet was a lavish, plush rug. There was a desk set out from the wall with an ornate chair, facing the doorway. There was also a dresser, a set of drawers, and a large wardrobe within the room. A door to the side led to a private bathroom in which a large stone bath sat steaming in the corner, seemingly heated naturally, her very own hot spring.

She eagerly stripped her clothes and slid into the hot water, a happy shiver rolling over her. She scrubbed her skin clean and washed her hair, a feeling she could only describe as euphoria flooding through her. After so many freezing baths, she revelled in the luxury of the hot water.

'Excuse me, my lady,' a feminine voice called from the hall, 'I have brought you some clothes, is it all right if I enter?'

'Oh, yes, thank you so much,' Rokara called back, 'please, leave them on the bed. I'll be out shortly.'

'Is there anything else you need?'

'No, no, thank you so much!'

'Of course, my lady. I have left a note from Bhelen; he awaits you at the Palace.'

'Thank you again.'

She waited until she heard the door to her room close before she rose. She dried herself then returned to the bedroom. She had expected to find one outfit laid out for her, but there appeared to be a whole wardrobe spread carefully across the bed. She clutched her chest, reaching out to caress the soft fabric for a moment before she carefully sifted through the clothes.

She found multiple pairs of undergarments and nearly cried with happiness. She slid them on, not feeling even one itchy thread. She tried to pick something appropriate for dinner with King, opting for a flattering blue dress with silver accents that glistened in the light, the squared neckline revealing her collarbones. The sleeves were long and fitted as if tailored to her, the hem brushing the tops of her feet, with a slit running up each side to her mid-thigh.

She pulled the cord of her phylactery over her head, tucking it into her undergarments between her breasts. No one seemed, so far, to mind that she was a mage. She could not, however, allow them to discover she was an apostate.

At the base of the bed, she found a collection of shoes. She picked a complimentary pair and slipped them on. The leather was soft on her skin.

She brushed her hair at the dresser. Her ears peeked from beneath the damp strands. She sought out a soft silvered shawl on the bed and wrapped the fabric over her head, as she had done with the cloth when she had arrived in the city.

When she had finished dressing, she found the note that Bhelen had left on the bedside table. She opened the envelope, pulling a small sheet of fine paper from within.

 _My dear Rokara,_

 _I hope I am not too forward, but it is a custom here to welcome royal guests with a small gift. My mother crafted this pendant. I hope you will wear it tonight._

 _-Bhelen._

It seemed Alistair had been right. She examined the necklace. The chain was delicate. A small knotted pendant hung from it, glistening in the soft light of the room.

She slipped the chain around her neck, the pendant settling between her collarbones. Although she appreciated the gesture, she was uncertain about how she would gently reject the romance of a King. His advance was flattering, but she knew that entering into a relationship would be dangerous. She would gladly assist in pushing back the darkspawn, but once she had found Antonius, she knew she would have to leave.

She made her way back to the living room. She slowed as she approached, pausing beside the doorway. Alistair was sitting on the couch. He had also changed, exchanging his armour for a finely cut tunic and soft leather pants. He looked relaxed now, his hands folded behind his head. The rich blue fabric was stretched tight over his biceps and chest, revealing more of the muscled figure she had glimpsed in the cave. Although his hair was wet and he had clearly bathed, his jaw remained stubbled. She found herself oddly pleased to note such a thing.

She glanced down at her dress, realising that they had accidentally coordinated their outfits. She felt her cheeks flush but knew it was a coincidence: Alistair probably wouldn't even notice, she reasoned, and she forced herself to enter the room.

* * *

Alistair glanced at the doorway when he heard her soft footsteps. He stood as she entered, but was nearly knocked off his feet. Her beauty had struck him in the cave, but now it stole his breath. The rich blue dress hugged her slender figure, contrasting with her alabaster skin. She seemed to be gently brushed with a shimmering dust as she approached. Her high, sharp cheekbones, tinged with the softest pink, were framed by the soft shawl she had wrapped around her hair. When he met her gaze, her golden eyes shone softly in the faintly lit room.

'Rokara…'

His eyes darted to the pendant. Whatever words that had been on his lips evaporated as he noted the intricate dwarven knot. He had felt a flash of jealousy when Bhelen had kissed her hand, and he had been kicking himself for not offering to take her pack sooner. Now jealousy seared him, but he squashed the feeling.

He cleared his throat to cover the pause.

'Shall we go?'

'Yes. I'm starving. Aren't you?'

'Oh, yeah. Starving,' he said, a weak laugh falling from his lips. He offered his arm to her, his heart skipping as she joined him. As they walked, he cast a sideways glance at the pendant.

 _A gift from Bhelen._

Jealousy flared inside him again. How could he expect her to resist the flattery of a King, when he had not thought to treat her as a gentleman should?

 _I have no right to feel this way_. _Who am I to deny her the courtship of a King?_

He found himself suddenly wondering if he should have accepted his throne. He had, after all, had the chance. But the musings were futile. If he had accepted the throne, he would not be by her side now. He could not deny that he had enjoyed the time he had spent with her so far. Though counted in mere days, they had talked extensively. He had hoped…

 _No. You have been down this path before, Alistair._

He resolved himself. Whatever the Maker decided for Rokara, he would accept it. Even if it meant he didn't have a chance.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

 _Royal Palace_

 _Diamond Quarter, Orzammar_

When Rokara and Alistair reached the Palace, they were led to the private dining chambers. Once more, Rokara found herself in awe of the architecture. Alistair had been quiet for much of the walk, and she had found herself observing him. He had smiled so brightly at her when she had entered the living room, but something had changed. She had wanted to ask if he liked the dress she had chosen, but bit her tongue. His thoughts were not her business.

Bhelen welcomed them as they entered. He pulled out Rokara's chair for her before he took his own, directly across from her. The table was a large square with four place settings. Alistair took a side.

As food was served, they chatted. Alistair and Bhelen exchanged stories of their exploits. Rokara listened, fascinated by both the adventures and the politics. It felt so civilised to talk over dinner.

Inevitably, though, Bhelen turned his attention to her. She had dreaded the moment, knowing she would have to lie.

'Tell me, Rokara. Where are you from? I assume you studied in a Ferelden Circle.'

'Yes, I am. I studied in the Janin Circle, but I am originally from Redcliffe,' she lied, 'I served a family there until my magic began to appear.'

'I know this is rather personal, but I must ask… your Harrowing. Clearly, it was successful, but how did you manage it?'

'It was difficult,' she said, another lie, 'the desire demon that was summoned was very strong, but I guess I was stronger.'

Bhelen questioned her some more, seemingly fascinated by her. She answered politely, but each word that came from her tongue was a lie. She could feel Alistair's gaze on her. He knew enough to pick up on it, and she wondered if he would comment. Instead, he listened, acting as if he knew the story already. He knew how terrified she was of being discovered to be an apostate, and he seemed determined to protect her. She felt a great respect for this Warden anew.

As their plates were cleared, Bhelen became more serious.

'Alistair, I was somewhat vague in my letter to you,' he said, 'in truth, it is not a normal force of darkspawn we face. It is a particularly savage group, and we have lost many good men holding it back as long as we have. We had pushed it back step by step, but it seems to renew itself in days. It is certainly not a Blight, but I fear there may be a broodmother hidden deeper in the Thaig, and I am hoping that you and your companions will aid Orzammar once more and lead a force against it.'

'Of course, Bhelen.'

The King nodded, resolved. 'We will prepare some tactics in the coming days. I expect we will be ready when Wynne and Shale arrive.'

Bhelen stood. Alistair and Rokara followed suit, but Bhelen paused at the edge of the table beside Rokara.

'May I talk with you privately, Rokara? Before you leave.'

She paused, glancing at Alistair.

'I'll see you back at the house,' he said, bowing slightly and excusing himself.

Once the door had closed behind him, Bhelen motioned for her to sit once more.

'I'm sure you have guessed my intentions, by now,' he said, standing beside her, 'you are a beautiful woman, Rokara. I would be honoured if you would consider sharing a private meal with me tomorrow evening.'

'Bhelen,' she started, searching for words, 'I… I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and hospitality…'

'But?' he said, a soft smirk on his lips.

'But… I'm sorry. I will not lead you on a path that you cannot walk. I am incredibly flattered by your note and your words, and I will gladly assist with the fight against the darkspawn, but beyond that… I won't be staying in Orzammar.'

'I cannot say I am not disappointed,' he said with a sigh, but a smile brightened his bearded his face, 'but I will not push you. Thank you for indulging me thus far.'

'I will return your mother's necklace.'

He smiled. 'It remains a gift. Please keep it, to remember your time in Orzammar. However long that may be.'

'Thank you. It is truly beautiful.'

He offered her his hand. 'Allow me to escort you back to the guest house. You must be tired.'

She placed her palm atop his.

'My offer still stands, Rokara. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I sense that you have a request to make, but are unsure if it will be welcome. I assure you, it will.'

'There is one thing I am looking for,' she admitted.

'Yes?'

'There is a Templar I seek, known as Antonius. If you have any information on his location, I would appreciate it.'

'And why do you seek a Templar?'

'My reasons are my own.'

He nodded, accepting her answer. 'I will send some scouts. They will report anything they discover directly to you.'

They stopped outside the door.

'Thank you, Bhelen,' she said.

He bent his head to kiss her hand. 'Sleep well, Rokara.'

She watched him leaving for a moment then entered the house.

* * *

 _Royal Guest House_

 _Diamond Quarter, Orzammar_

Alistair stared up at the stone ceiling absently. When he arrived back at the house, he laid back on the couch and attempted to sift through his jumbled thoughts. He did not have long, though, for shortly after he arrived, he heard the heavy front door open. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the lounge. As she entered, he noticed that she was unclasping the necklace.

'I told you he was enamoured,' he said, forcing a smirk.

'While I was very flattered, I let him down gently.'

She sat beside him on the lounge, placing the necklace gently on the table. She did not notice the hitch in Alistair's breath as she leant back, a mere foot from him.

'I want to help in the Deep Roads. I will help in the Deep Roads. But I don't see my future here in Orzammar, nor do I see it with a Dwarven King. I don't know where it lies.'

'Not going to give Bhelen a chance?'

She glanced at him. 'I'm not going to lead him on, King or no. It wouldn't be fair.' She stood once more. 'I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Alistair.'

'Goodnight.'

He watched her go. He felt the sinking weight in his stomach ease, knowing that she had blocked Bhelen's advance. He did not yet understand the feelings that churned within him, but he felt determined to get to know her. She had offered him trust, and he wanted her to know that it was mutual. He wanted her to know that, despite all she had been through, she had a friend.

He rose from the lounge. He walked past her room. The door was partially open, but soft light still glowed from within. He heard no movement inside and ducked his head around the door. Rokara slept peacefully. Her tiny frame seemed to disappear within the massive bed.

 _Sweet dreams, Roka,_ he thought, pulling the door closed a little more before he continued to his room.

* * *

The days following their arrival were filled with activity. Bhelen insisted on giving them a personal tour of the city. Alistair thought he would be upset by Rokara's rejection, but he seemed to have accepted it in his stride. He remained polite, allowing Rokara personal space. His focus turned to his city, and with pride, he noted all the advancements that had been made since Alistair had last been in Orzammar.

Alistair was astounded at the progress, but he found himself spending more time looking at Rokara than he did the city. He noted the way her golden eyes brightened at the sights and architecture. Bhelen was happy to answer her questions. She was eager to learn about Dwarven history and culture, and Bhelen obliged her. He took them to the Shaperate at the end of their tour, and Rokara buried herself in books.

When they weren't with Bhelen discussing the upcoming charge against the darkspawn, Alistair went with Rokara to the surface. They talked to the traders and travellers that frequented the area, but none had heard of a Templar named Antonius.

They returned to the living room. Alistair could sense that she was disheartened, but she did not show it on her face. She ducked into her room for a moment, returning with a worn, leather-bound notebook. She opened it, flicking through until she found the correct page. She scribbled some notes, then flicked through a few more pages, adding more.

'Well, he may not have reached Orzammar yet, but he will have to pass by to cross the border with Orlais.'

She placed the notebook on the table before her, staring at it absently.

Alistair found himself watching her once again. She still wore a soft shawl over her hair and ears. He had wanted so desperately to reach for it and unwrap it. Even now his hand rose of its own will.

'I know you've been wondering how much of what I told Bhelen was true,' she said.

'I won't deny it.'

She looked down at her hands.

'We have known each other for, what, two weeks?'

He nodded.

'Despite that, you have helped me without question, even though I am hunting a Templar and even though I have made my intent to kill him clear. Not once have you demanded to know why I desire revenge so keenly, even though you have every right to,' she said. She turned to face him on the lounge, tucking her ankles beneath her.

'Before I was taken to the Circle, I lived in a noble household outside of Denerim. Ser Fenneric and his wife were unwaveringly kind. I was only a baby when he employed my parents. We were ostracised from the alienage when my parents accepted work at the Fenneric household, but my mother always told me that she never regretted it. Ser Fenneric took care of us. He and his family respected my parents' values and hard work when others had vilified them for their elven blood.

'When my mother was working, Ser Fenneric would take care of me. The Fenneric's had struggled to conceive their second child for many years. They had almost given up when Lady Fenneric fell pregnant, but they lost their daughter to illness when she was a baby, only a year before we arrived in the house. They were still heartbroken. Lady Fenneric told me when I was older that my smile reminded him of their Emily: she could see it too. She told me that… that I had helped them heal.

'They had an older son, nine years older than me. He was the only boy I knew, the only friend I had, even though we were so far apart in age. I saw him as an older brother, and, for a long time, I suppose he saw me as the little sister he lost.

'My life was sheltered there. Safe. I thought that all elves were treated like my family and me, but when I arrived at the Circle Tower, I met another elf for the first time. He had belonged to a Denerim family in the city. When his magic started to develop, his master beat him for it. He told me that his master was angry because he had to buy another servant boy. I was horrified, thinking he was telling me a sick joke, but I still remember the blank stare he gave me when I asked what he had been paid for his work. He laughed at me. I did not know that it was so unusual, even unheard of, for elves to be paid for their work, let alone offered a wage higher than a human servant in the same position.'

'It sounds like Ser Fenneric and his family were good to you,' Alistair said, 'I can't imagine what you went through when they sent you off to the Circle, but I can understand why you felt betrayed.'

'Ser Fenneric never betrayed me,' she said with a shake of her head, 'nor did Lady Fenneric. When I began to show signs of having magical blood, they hid me, promising that I would be safe in their house and that they would find me a trusted tutor to teach me to control my magic. But Antonius had joined the Templars when he was thirteen. They changed him somehow; they warped his mind. He became suspicious when he visited the household. Shortly after I turned eight, he told his superior of his suspicions. Templars came to the house, demanding that Ser Fenneric reveal me, but he refused. I still remember the sound of Antonius… hitting his father. Lady Fenneric begged him to stop.

'My parents tried to stop me, but I pulled from their grip. I begged Antonius not to hurt Ser Fenneric anymore, not realising that I had done as he expected. He grabbed my arm so hard that I had bruises for weeks. I had not understood what was going on. It was so loud. My parents and the Fenneric's had been screaming. The other Templars held them back as Antonius gave me to his superior. I screamed so much when he dragged me away that I could barely speak when I arrived at the Tower.

'Antonius is the one who betrayed me. I trusted him. I idolised him as a girl. We played together and laughed together as children, and he still ripped me away from my family and my life. He was the one that held me down when Irving took my blood. He smiled at me when I begged to go home, telling me that I would never see my family again. He is the one who told Knight-Commander Greagoir that I should become a Tranquil. They were going to take away my willpower, my personality. Antonius said that an elf should not be trusted with such magical will.'

She felt a dampness in her hands as she clenched them. She raised them as she uncurled her fingers, staring at the red that trickled from her skin. Her nails had dug deep enough to cut the surface, her hands shaking as she stared.

'Rokara.'

Alistair rushed to find some cloth, wrapping her hands gently. When she looked up, his head was down, his eyes focused on her palms. His shoulders quivered. She felt rage rolling off him, his anger tangible in the air.

'I am so sorry. I don't understand how someone could–' He shook his head. 'I'm sorry. We will find him, and I will help you kill him for what he has done to you.'

'This is my burden, Alistair.'

'And now it's mine.'

She opened her mouth to protest, but a knock at the door stopped her. Alistair rose to answer the door. She heard a quiet exchange, turning to face him as he returned.

'This is from Bhelen's scouts,' he said, holding up the paper.

She held out her hand.

'I'm part of this now, Rokara. No matter what.'

He passed her the parchment, and she ripped open the wax seal. Alistair watched her read. He waited for the excitement, for her to announce that they had located Antonius near the border and that they would set out within the hour. But as she read, her eyes grew darker. Her body shook. As she gripped the page, blood from her hands seeped into the paper.

When she screamed, the sound ripped at his soul. It was a deep anguish, a sound he had only heard once before.

He rushed to her, gripping her shoulders.

'Rokara,' he said, shaking her, 'Roka, tell me what's wrong.'

Her chest heaved. When she raised her head to look up at him, her reddened eyes filled with tears. She shook as she handed him the report, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed.

 _Intelligence report._

 _Antonius Fenneric, Templar: Location._

 _Imperial Highway, Frostback Mountains. 17 Miles from Ferelden-Orlais border._

 _Appointed to seek apostates._

 _Killed in action: darkspawn ambush. Verified._

He dropped the note. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she shook.

'I know you wanted to be the one to kill him, but I promise you, Roka: he suffered. The darkspawn made him suffer, and the Maker would find his suffering justified. He has no hold over you anymore. You are too strong for him: you proved that when you escaped the Tower, when you survived in the Frostback Mountains for two years, alone.'

She shook her head.

'It doesn't matter now. I did it all for nothing.'

'Don't you dare diminish your strength!' He cupped her cheeks, lifting her eyes to his. He needed to calm her, to show her that there was more to her than revenge. 'Tell me how you escaped, Roka, for, at that moment, you defeated Antonius. You showed him that you were stronger than he could ever be. At that moment,' Alistair said, fire in his eyes, 'whether you struck the killing blow or not, you sealed his fate.'

He held her gaze. Her shoulders still shook, but her breaths slowly steadied. She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrists, but she did not move away from him, her hands returning to grip the fabric of his tunic. The warmth that radiated from his body centred her, her hold on his shirt an anchor in the present.

She detailed her escape, leaving nothing out, determined to make him understand her pain. She told him how she retrieved her phylactery, how she faced and killed the demon that attacked her. She told him of her fall into Lake Calenhad when her body became too weak. He listened intently, allowing her to speak, and the more she told him, the calmer she became.

He was in awe of her, in awe of her strength, to face a demon alone and defeat it when she had not yet faced her Harrowing, in awe of her determination to fight a Templar despite nursing broken bones. At every step, she fought for her freedom.

'I… I thought about going to Denerim, of finding my parents and the Fennerics, but I had no idea if they still lived. I had no contact with them during my years in the Tower. Antonius ensured that my mail privileges were restricted. Even when I escaped, I knew it would be too dangerous to go back. The Templars would have checked there first, and it would all have been in vain. So I went in the opposite direction.'

She told him of life in the mountains, how she had survived for so long. Despite her sheltered life, she learned to hunt and to barter. She adapted to each situation that faced her, determined to never fall into the hands of Templars again.

When she finished, he found he could not move away. He cupped her cheeks once more, wiping tears from her eyes. She seemed to lean into his touch, or maybe that's just what he hoped. He found himself reaching to unwrap the soft shawl again, but this time he did not stop himself.

'You are so brave. I wish I could make you see the strength that I see in you,' he whispered as he dropped the fabric beside them, revealing her fiery hair. He swept the silken strands behind her ears, revealing the high points. She tried to pull away. 'You do not need to hide, Roka. You are so much stronger, so much more courageous than society has ever told you. Be proud of that.'

'Alistair…'

The door to the house opened. As Alistair turned away, Rokara rose. She disappeared from the living room with her notebook. He desperately wanted to follow, his mind torn, but heavy footsteps approached.

'Is it here?' a coarse voice called.

'Shale?'

The golem appeared in the entry to the common room. It removed a large pack from its shoulders, placing it on the floor.

'Ah, it is here. How long has it been since I saw it last?'

Alistair thought that Shale might have smiled.

'Too long,' he said.

'Too long indeed, young man.'

Alistair had to lean to look around Shale. 'Wynne!'

The old mage smiled at him, her eyes as bright as he remembered. When he reached her, she embraced him. He pulled back, holding her shoulders for a moment.

'You haven't aged a day!'

She bat playfully at his arm. 'Your humour hasn't either.'

'You missed the banter.'

She shrugged. 'Maybe a little.'

'Where have you been?'

'I could ask you the same question, Alistair,' Wynne said, 'but I suppose we each have tried to assist others in these months after the Blight. Shale and I have travelled together for a time.'

'It is an acceptable companion, for a mage. I find I am quite fond of it.'

Alistair laughed. 'Such kind words, coming from you.'

'I must say that I have rather enjoyed Shale's company,' Wynne said, 'I'm not as young as I once was.'

'I would appreciate it if it didn't spread around that I said anything,' Shale said, 'I don't want humans to get the wrong idea. It might start thinking their race is not completely hopeless.'

Alistair quirked a brow. 'Why do I feel like I've heard you say that before?'

'I hear,' Wynne said, drawing Alistair's attention back to the issue at hand, 'that we are to fight some darkspawn. Bhelen said in his letter that he fears there may be a broodmother in one of the Thaigs.'

'Indeed. Now that you have arrived, we should meet with him. He'll be in the Royal Palace.'

'We shall go at once then,' Wynne said.

Alistair had missed her determination. She seemed soft and grandmotherly, but a fierceness still dwelled within.

'I'll catch up,' he said, ducking back a step.

Shale raised a rocky brow. 'Does it have better things to attend to?'

'No, no,' he said, 'just… human things.'

'Ah, I do not need to know what it does when alone. Come, Wynne; we will leave it.'

Wynne chuckled but followed Shale out of the common room.

When the door had closed behind them, Alistair rushed to Rokara's room. The door was closed, and he paused at the threshold. He knocked softly.

'It's me,' he said.

He was met with silence. He dropped his hand back to his side, closing his eyes, but the click of the lock made him stay. She opened the door slowly, peeking out. Her eyes were still tinged with red, but no more tears lined them.

'Are you alright?' he asked.

She opened the door fully. Half burnt pages from her notebook were scattered on the ground among flakes of ash.

'Yes. I… I'm angry that I didn't get to take Antonius' life myself, but you're right. He would have suffered when the darkspawn killed him. I'm going to have to accept that as being enough,' she said, 'thank you for listening to me. Making me talk about the Tower forced me to focus on a different perspective. All that I did… it wasn't for revenge, it was to save myself, and I did that.'

'The fact that you were able to is worth much more,' he said. He gently pushed the door open further. 'Show me your hands.'

She held them out, and he gently unwrapped the cloth from them. The bleeding had stopped, but the wounds remained.

'Wynne will be able to heal these blindfolded,' he reassured her.

'Wynne?'

'She and Shale arrived. They're on their way to speak to Bhelen about the darkspawn.'

'We should go,' she said, but her words did not have her usual determination. She pulled the phylactery from around her neck. The phial glowed faintly in the light, and she stared at it for a moment.

'I have carried this for so long,' she whispered as she untied the leather cord from around it, 'I was going to destroy it before Antonius' eyes, my final act of defiance against him. I can't do that now.'

She rolled the phial in her hand, staring at it.

'I'm free.'

Alistair nearly jumped when she threw the phylactery, her movement so sudden. It shattered against the stone wall, fine shards of glass raining to the floor. Fire returned to her eyes as she faced him.

'I agreed to fight. Let's find out what we're up against.'


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

 _Royal Guest House_

 _Diamond Quarter, Orzammar_

For two hours they poured over maps of the Deep Roads. Bhelen revealed that darkspawn movements were primarily originating from within Ortan Thaig. He had sent forces to investigate, but they had been overwhelmed, and could not get deep enough to discover the exact location of the suspected broodmother. They discussed optimal access routes, and by the evening, they formed a plan.

The four companions returned to the guest house. Both Alistair and Rokara retired to their rooms. Wynne waited until the house was quiet.

'Shale?'

'Yes?'

'What are your thoughts on this new mage that Alistair has travelled with?'

'It is intelligent. I was rather impressed by its tactical analysis. It seems to want to help.'

'But do you trust her?'

'Despite it being a mage, I have not been presented with a reason to deny it my trust,' Shale said, 'Alistair seems to trust it. In fact, he seems rather fond of it. The way he looked at it when they touched hands at the table was interesting. I believe that he may want to rub against it, or whatever humans do when attracted to each other.'

Wynne rolled her eyes. 'That is quite enough of that description.'

'I am only being honest. You asked my opinion, and I gave it.'

'You do speak your mind, don't you, Shale?'

'Fortunately,' Shale replied, 'no other part of me has anything else to say.'

Wynne sighed. 'There's something about her that I cannot place. But, Alistair does indeed seem to trust her. That is enough for now, I suppose.'

* * *

The following day, they travelled to the Deep Roads with a contingent of dwarves. They went to Ortan Thaig, documenting as much as possible during their explorations. There certainly was an increase in darkspawn activity in the Thaig. They joined the dwarves that held the line, combining forces to push the darkspawn deeper.

As they fought, a deafening screech echoed through the tunnels.

'Maker's breath…' Alistair said. He blocked another darkspawn, thrusting his sword deep.

They cleared the darkspawn forces deeper in the Thaig, but their path was blocked. They had done all they could for now. It would be a matter of days before they forces were strengthened once more. The warriors would be able to hold them back. The dwarves were nothing if not stubborn, and now they had the upper hand.

Wynne continued to watch Rokara, but she proved herself a powerful and companionable mage. She seemed a natural elementalist, her control of fire astounding for someone so young. As they trekked back to the city, she found herself falling into step with her. Wynne asked about her Circle, not knowing that Rokara was feeding her the same lie she had told to Bhelen.

When Wynne asked about her Harrowing, Rokara seemed to stiffen.

'I'm sorry,' Wynne said, sensing her raising a wall between them, 'I did not mean to upset you, I know it can be a difficult experience. I am sure you handled it with the same finesse you showed in the Deep Roads today.'

'Thank you, Wynne, that's a fine compliment coming from such a powerful mage.'

The rest of their conversation was amicable. Although Rokara did not feel she could be honest with the elder mage yet, she respected Wynne greatly.

Bhelen met them at the entrance to the Deep Roads.

'What news do you bring?'

'I'm sorry Bhelen, it seems you were right. We could not reach it, but we heard a broodmother down there,' Alistair said, removing his helmet, 'with the help of your troops, we were able to clear out most of the darkspawn and push back the line deeper into the Thaig, but with a broodmother… it will not be long before they reinforce their numbers.'

Bhelen's brow tightened. 'We must make more preparations. I will prepare my finest warriors and gather the supply carts. We depart for Ortan Thaig in 36 hours.'

Alistair bowed his head.

'We'll stop this, Bhelen. You will reclaim your Thaigs.'

'I cannot thank you enough for your help,' he said, 'go rest. I'll have dinner brought to your quarters.'

'May I make a small request, King Bhelen?'

'Of course Wynne.'

'Oghren spoiled me somewhat during our journeys together. It has been a long time since I have had an opportunity to indulge in some fine Dwarven ale.'

Bhelen laughed. 'Of course.' He turned, still laughing as he headed away from them.

The four companions returned to the guest house. Rokara, Alistair and Wynne collapsed on the lounges. Shale stood at the edge of the lounge that Wynne rested on.

'Those darkspawn were weak. They did not even manage to chip me.'

'Lucky you.' Alistair shifted in his armour awkwardly before he rose to his feet again. 'I have to go take this off.'

'I think I need to lie down,' Rokara said. She held her side tightly.

Wynne sat up. The young mage's face had paled since they arrived back in the city. The pink tinge that normally dusted her cheeks was absent.

'Are you hurt?'

'It took a tackle from a darkspawn in the last battle,' Shale said.

'I felt fine before,' she said with a grimace.

'You may be injured internally,' Wynne said, rising quickly, 'lie down.'

'I'm fine.'

'Lie down, young lady, or I will have Shale make you.'

Rokara glanced to Shale. The golem's stony eyebrow arched.

'I will restrain it if it does not do as the wise one requests.'

The pain was becoming stronger now, and she saw no other option. She lay back on the lounge.

'Where does it hurt?'

'Below my ribs on my left.'

Wynne placed her hands gently there, and Rokara flinched. 'I suspect that tackle did more damage than we first realised,' she said as she channelled her magics, 'you should have mentioned it, but you probably only noticed it because the excitement of the fight wore off.'

In only a minute, the pain subsided. Wynne helped Rokara sit up again, watching her intently for a moment. She touched her side, probing.

'Thank you,' she said, 'you're an incredible mage.'

Wynne smiled as she stood, returning to the lounge. 'As are you.'

'I thought squishy beings made much more noise when injured. It handled pain well.'

'Thanks, Shale. I think.'

'It is welcome.'

Alistair returned to the living area, stripped of his armour and wearing a fitted tunic and pants.

'Wynne, I think I may have overdone it with my shield arm,' he said, flexing it, 'would you mind working your magic?

She shook her head, but she still smiled. 'Come sit down.'

He dropped his huge frame on the floor before her, leaning against her knees. She grasped his shoulder gently.

'Thanks, Wynne.'

Rokara watched from the opposite lounge. She knew that they had been through much together during the Blight. In the Deep Road they had bickered and bantered incessantly, even during the fighting, but they shared a profound respect for each other. This was friendship, companionship, the connection she had craved so desperately for so long. The connection which Alistair offered her at every moment.

She found herself dwelling on the evening before. Alistair had held her tightly as she cried, had touched her so gently. The last time she remembered feeling as safe with someone as she felt with Alistair, she had been eight years old.

Movement in the entryway drew her from her musings. A line of dwarves entered, placing food on the large table between the lounges. They filed in and out in an organised line.

Alistair clapped his hands together. 'I am so hungry,' he exclaimed as he rose, grabbing a plateful of food and a flagon of beer. He sat beside Rokara on the lounge, digging in.

Rokara gathered food as well. The flagon was massive in her slender hands. She took a tentative sip of the brew. It wasn't the best drink she had ever had, but it was the first time she had ever tasted any ale. There was a hint of sweetness to it, the flavour strangely soothing.

Wynne took a sip. 'Ahh, a hint of nuttiness and cloves,' she said, smiling fondly, 'it reminds me of Oghren's homebrew.'

Shale retired to her room to read, expressing her desire to stop watching the humans chew noisily.

For a time, they talked about the imminent assault on the broodmother. More of the ale disappeared. As it grew later, Wynne retired for the night to the room at the far end of the house, complaining of her over indulgence in the ale, but only after she quipped at them not stay up too late.

Rokara asked Alistair questions about the darkspawn, and about how he defeated the last broodmother he faced. The way he talked about it, she believed that they would succeed. He was confident in himself and his friends, and confident in her. More confident that she felt herself.

As they talked and drank, Rokara could feel the warmth from the ale spread through her body. As her flagon drained, her confidence grew. So did Alistair's. They found themselves inching closer on the lounge whenever the other glanced away, and, soon, the conversation turned more personal.

'So your father was… he was King Maric?' she asked, clutching the flagon to her chest.

Alistair nodded with a smirk on his lips. 'Yep. I was the bastard son of the King and a serving maid. I never wanted to be King, though, and I was never going to claim the throne, even though I think Eamon wanted me to. Besides, Anora is a capable Queen,' he said, 'Eamon did his best, but his wife, Isolde, suspected that Eamon took an interest in my welfare because I was _his_ bastard. Though her suspicions were unfounded, Eamon still sent me to the Chantry when she demanded it, so that's why I trained as a Templar.'

'What was life like, in the monastery?'

'I guess it was like the Circle, in some ways at least. My lifestyle was restricted. I spent most of my time training. For a long time, I was taught to think a certain way. I don't know if all Templars experienced what I did, but I was… well, I was taught to hate the mages, to distrust them at every turn, but the doctrine never sat well with me. None of the doctrine did, really. A religious life wasn't really for me I guess.'

'Could you…?'

He sat up further as blush coloured her cheeks. She glanced away from him, a delicate finger tracing the rim of her flagon nervously.

'Could I _what_?'

'Well, could you…' she trailed off, and the flush on her cheeks brightened, 'there must have been female Templars.'

'Could I have "relations" with them?' he asked, and he felt his face flush to match hers, 'well, no. But I don't believe it's necessary to take any vows of celibacy as a Templar, and I certainly wasn't planning on it. I will admit that I did think about those kind of things. I think if I had needed to take a vow, I would have been kicked out for impure thoughts if Duncan didn't conscript me. I guess that was a good sign I wasn't suited to a life of religious devotion.'

She laughed. 'I guess so,' she said, 'you were young though. I'm not surprised that celibacy wasn't high on your list of priorities.'

'True, not that I had much luck finding company in the monastery.'

'But you're not a virgin, are you?' She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words had escaped her lips, her eyes wide with surprise at herself. 'I'm sorry, that was a bit forward. I just mean to say that you're, well, you're attractive, I mean,' she glanced away, 'what I mean is that I can imagine you've seen your fair share of pretty girls.'

'To be honest, after I was conscripted into the Grey Wardens, I didn't have much time to meet people. We were on the verge of a Blight. I spent most of my time fighting or securing the Grey Warden treatise,' he said, 'that, and the one person who I… well, they weren't interested in me. After the Blight, though, I did see two women, separately of course. It was nice, but it didn't last. I think they just wanted to bed me because I was the bastard son of a King, and a hero of the Blight.' A wry smirk was on his lips. 'What about you, did you have any "relations" with the other mages?'

'I'm sure you know that relationships were discouraged, but it didn't stop things from happening in secret. The Templars may think that they can be everywhere at once, but they can't,' she said. She took a final sip of her flagon and the placed it back on the table. She tucked her ankles beneath her and faced him fully, leaning against the back of the lounge. 'I had a fleeting romance with another mage, the elf that I first met when I arrived, but it did not last. He wasn't an… attentive lover. But I guess I didn't mind as much as I should have at the time. The relationship itself was another way to disobey the Templars. I didn't love him.'

'Have you loved anyone?'

'In a romantic way? No,' she admitted, 'have you?'

'I… I was in love with Lilara. Or, I thought I was,' he said, 'I found out that she didn't feel the same. She… she and Morrigan fell in love. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but there is a reason the Grey Wardens must face the Archdemon. When a killing blow is struck, the Archdemon's soul seeks out the taint in the nearest darkspawn, reshaping it into the form of a dragon. It is essentially immortal. But, if the nearest tainted being already contains a soul, like a Grey Warden, the two souls can't coexist. They destroy each other.

'Before we faced the Archdemon, Morrigan told Lilara that there was a way to kill it without either of us having to sacrifice ourselves. There was a ritual: a Warden – me – could father a child with her. We would have been able to kill the demon without making the ultimate sacrifice, but Lilara refused. I heard them screaming at each other from my room, but I had no idea what it was about, not until…'

He buried his head in his hands.

'I could have saved her, but her love for Morrigan… she couldn't bear the thought of knowingly offering the woman she loved to another. Morrigan and I had never gotten along well, but after Lilara died, something inside her snapped. I still have nightmares about the battle, and I… I still hear her scream. The look she gave me when I tried to approach Lilara… not a day goes by I don't wish I had made the killing blow myself.'

'She made her choice, Alistair. Don't take that away from her,' Rokara said, 'you told me to own my strength. Surely, you wouldn't take her agency away?'

He leant back against the couch, staring up at the stone ceiling. 'I… I hadn't thought about it like that.'

She slid from the lounge. 'Sometimes you just need a different perspective.' She walked to the doorway, pausing. 'I… I enjoy talking to you. It's been a long time since I've had a friend.'

He pulled a smile over his lips. 'I enjoy talking to you too.'

'Goodnight, Alistair.'

'Goodnight, Roka.'

Her heart skipped. She had to force herself to turn from him, her hands reaching to clutch at her chest. The way her name rolled off his tongue made her stomach flutter. She allowed herself to wonder what being with Alistair would be like, but only for a moment. No matter how much she hoped, she knew that it was only that: hope.

* * *

Alistair sat on the lounge a while longer. His mind churned and his heart thumped loudly in his chest. He knew what was happening. He had felt like this before, but he did not remember the sensation being so intense.

Emotions warred in him, breaking lose. He slammed his fist into the plush cushion of the lounge. He rocked forward, his elbows on his knees as he scrubbed his hands through his hair. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. He stalked up the hallway, coming to the first bedroom. His hand grasped the knob, but he caught himself before he turned it.

He leant his forehead against the cool surface of the door. He clenched his fist tight, taking a steadying breath before he forced himself to turn away and march to the door across the hall.

He slammed the door, nearly ripping his tunic as he tried to take it off. He threw it across the room, his chest heaving as he stared at it, his mind flashing back to the phylactery when it shattered.

He dropped to his knees at the side of the bed, staring down, his mind a tempest.

'Maker help me…'

* * *

Rokara woke to a muffled yell. She sat up. She could see well in the dark room, but she was alone. She began to wonder if her mind was playing tricks on her.

 _It was just a dream_.

She began to settle back into the covers, but another short cry sounded in the quiet house, close enough that she could hear it despite the dense stone walls.

 _Alistair_.

She slid from the bed, dragging on a tunic. She rushed into the hall. The door was closed. She stopped just before the door, wondering if she should open it. When another harsh scream sounded from within, she grasped the knob and turned, throwing herself into the room.

Alistair writhed on the bed, the covers tangled around him. Even in the dark, she could see the sheen of sweat that covered his skin. He was fighting something, a nightmare engulfing his mind.

She rushed to his side, crawling onto the massive bed. She dodged his arm as it swung out at some unknown being. She gripped his shoulders tightly, pinning his back against the bed with all her strength.

'Alistair!' she said, 'Alistair, wake up!'

'No!' he roared, 'not her!'

He tossed her backwards, too lost in the dream. She stared helplessly for a moment before she clambered back to his side. When her shaking still did not wake him, using all her might, she slammed her fists hard into his chest.

His eyes flew open. He shot up, gasping for air, disoriented by his surroundings. His shoulders shook as he stared at her.

'The–'

'Shh,' she whispered, reaching for his arm, 'you were having a nightmare, it's ok.'

'You died.'

It was dark. His exhausted mind was seeing Lilara. Her chest tightened.

He raised his hand, his calloused palm cupping her cheek.

'You died,' he said through heavy breaths, his chest heaving, 'the broodmother, she… I saw you die. It was so real.'

'It was just a dream,' she said.

'Roka.'

He reached for her, dragging her into his crushing embrace. She barely had time to process what had happened when he claimed her lips. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her body acting on its own. His kiss was rough, desperate. With one arm around her, the other sought her face, his calloused hands cupping her cheek for a moment before his fingers entwined in her hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled her closer, lifting her to straddle his lap, his arms wrapping tight around her slender frame.

He stole her breath with his passion, and she felt a fire ignite within, stronger than she had ever felt. The heat of his body enveloped her. When he grasped her thighs and dragged her toward him she gasped. His hands slid beneath the hem of her tunic and a shiver rolled down her spine. She felt him swell beneath her and her body answered his desire with a moan. The heat of his hard body was intoxicating. She became aware of how he cradled her against him, of his calloused hands on her thighs, of the tingles that darted from her core to the very tips of her toes when he pulled her hips over his aching need. When she finally managed to pull back, they were both breathless. His eyes blazed in the darkness, locked onto hers.

Her eyes widened, the fog in her mind lifting as she drew air into her lungs.

She pushed on his shoulders. 'Alistair, I–'

'Kiss me again,' he said, his voice gravelly now, filled with desire, 'please, Roka.'

'I can't,' she said, tears burning in her eyes. She pushed harder on his shoulders, freeing herself from his embrace. She slid off the edge of the bed before he could catch her in his arms again.

'I– I can't do this, Alistair. I know you loved Lilara, that you accepted her even though she was a mage, but she… she wasn't an apostate. She wasn't a– I won't hope that you could settle for an elf. You deserve better.'

She sprinted from the room, not daring to look back. She shut the door behind her, locking it. With her back against the door, she let her tears fall in abandon, her body shaking. She heard movement outside, and she clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. The door creaked as Alistair leant against it on the other side.

'Roka, please open the door.'

The nickname rolled off his tongue, and her chest tightened once more. She was falling for him. She had known it for longer than she cared to admit, but she would not hope that he felt the same. She could not convince herself that he could feel the same. For most of her life, caring for humans had only brought her pain and betrayal. She trusted Alistair wholly, but fear still plagued her. She had trusted Antonius once too.

She slid down to sit with her back against the door, tucking her knees to her chest as she cried.

She had no idea that Alistair remained on the other side, his head resting against the door, and his heart breaking with every sob he heard through the frame.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

When Wynne woke, she sensed turmoil in the house. She dressed for a day of preparation, tying her hair back in her usual bun, unable to shake the unusual feeling around her.

She had heard a cry in the middle of the night. Alistair had revealed in a letter that he had been suffering from nightmares, so she suspected that it was his shout that she had heard. She had almost gone to him, but his cries had stopped. She had not wanted to disturb his sleep more than his mind already had.

She had heard movement shortly before she had risen. Shale had knocked on her door to let her know of plans to go to the Shaperate for the day, and shortly after she had heard footsteps in the hall. As she walked down the hall, she was not surprised to find the door to Rokara and Alistair's rooms open.

When she entered the living room, Alistair was alone. The tension in the air was palpable. He was sitting on the edge of one of the lounges, his head in his hands. His shoulders appeared so tight that she feared the muscles in his back would snap if touched.

She approached quietly, sitting gently next to him on the lounge. He looked up, and she was surprised to see that his eyes were puffy.

She touched his arms, drawing his hands from his head. He had a tendency to pull on his hair when upset.

'Alistair, what's happened?'

'How…' he trailed off, rubbing his face. 'Wynne, how do you convince someone of their worth? How do you convince someone that they're beautiful when they've spent so much of their life being told otherwise?'

'Are you talking about Rokara?'

He nodded, and all her suspicions about them clicked into place.

'Oh, Alistair. I'm not sure I can answer that. She is a strong mage. I'm sure that she will find the courage within herself.'

He shook his head. 'I have to tell you something, but you must promise me that you will not say a word to anyone. She… she would never trust me again.'

'If she has trusted you with secrets, then you must keep them, Alistair,' she said, taking his hands, 'she may share them with me in time, but for now, she trusts you alone. Do not throw that away. I cannot tell you how to convince her of anything, but if anyone can, I have a feeling it will be you. You must give her time.'

* * *

Rokara kept herself busy during the day. She discussed the tactics of the upcoming battle with Bhelen, then assisted in packing the supply carts. They had no way to know which part of Ortan Thaig the broodmother was in yet. Bhelen wanted to be ready to dig in and camp in the Deep Roads. They would not leave until the broodmother was dead and the darkspawn and been cleared from the Thaig.

When she had done all she could to assist the preparations without simply getting in the way, she walked around the city. Although the dwarves were not quiet people by any stretch of the imagination, she found Orzammar peaceful. The towering ceilings and the magnificent architecture were unlike anything she had seen before. Despite the weight of the mountain above, it made her feel oddly safe.

 _Just like Alistair…_

She shook the thought from her mind. For a moment, when he had drawn her into his arms and claimed her lips, she had allowed herself to imagine more. But despite all she had told him, there was still a secret he did not know, and she would never tell him.

 _If he ever knew…_

He would never speak to her again.

Once they had killed the broodmother, she knew she would have to leave. Her chest ached at the thought, but she would not torment him any longer. It would take time, but he would forget her, she told herself. He would find a beautiful human woman to fall in love with.

She did not return to the guest house until she was sure that Alistair and Wynne would be asleep. She crept in as quietly as she could, closing her bedroom door behind her. A lantern was still lit on her bedside table.

She stripped her clothes, physically and emotionally spent, but as she approached the bed, she noticed something on the pillow. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers shaking as she reached to take the single rose. The rich petals were velvety, and as she brought the rose to her chest, its sweet scent filled her nose.

 _Another gift from Bhelen?_ she wondered. She thought she had made her intentions clear.

She searched for a note but did not find one. As she placed the rose on the bedside table, something fell from inside the petals. She picked up the small carved piece of wood, tracing her fingers over it. She brought it closer, her hand covering her mouth as she stared, her eyes glazing with tears. She clutched the griffon to her chest, wishing the bed would engulf her as she cried herself to sleep once more.

* * *

 _Ortan Thaig_

 _The Deep Roads_

They departed in the early hours of the next morning. Alistair tried to talk to Rokara, but she dodged his approaches, talking intently with the dwarven warriors that would join them in the battle. Wynne's words rang in his thoughts: _you must give her time._

A mile back from the stable line in the Ortan Thaig they stopped the carts. The troops set about making their camp. Rokara, Alistair, Wynne, and Shale had been supplied with tents. A group of Bhelen's men assisted them to set up near Bhelen's own, providing them bedding and some basic furniture as needed.

It had taken a few hours to reach the Thaig and set up camp, but the dwarves were getting restless. They were raring to fight, to make the final push into the Thaig and locate the broodmother.

Bhelen dispersed the orders to each division leader. On the ready call, Alistair and Shale led the charge, Rokara and Wynne close behind. The dwarves flanked them, dispersing to reinforce the line. As they expected, the darkspawn were regrouping. As the line pushed forward, they destroyed all darkspawn they encountered.

Alistair split the divisions off, sending them to search the deepest parts of the Thaig. They were to report back to Bhelen by morning with accounts on their sections.

Alistair, Rokara, Wynne, and Shale took a section for themselves. The walkways were quiet, the only sound the echo of their footsteps and the clank of Alistair's armour.

'The silence unnerves it,' Shale said, walking beside Alistair.

Alistair glanced up at the golem. 'Sort of,' he said, 'if there's a broodmother down here, she's either unusually quiet or she knows we're coming.'

After more than an hour of walking, they reached the end of the tunnel they had followed.

'Hopefully one of the other divisions has found something,' Wynne said. She sat on a rock, taking a moment. 'I suggest we rest before we turn back.'

'That sounds a wonderful idea,' Rokara said. She pulled a pouch of water from her belt, offering it to Wynne.

'Thank you,' she said. She took a few sips.

'Shall we continue? I forgot how slow travelling with squishy humans can be.'

'And yet you coped with my pace quite well, Shale.'

'It is an exception to my general distaste of the weak nature of humans.'

'You're too kind,' Wynne laughed. She rose. 'We should get back.'

They set out once more, following the path back. Alistair and Shale had been bantering for a while ahead, and after half an hour of walking, Rokara found herself talking to Wynne once again.

'You seem reserved today.'

Despite her soft, even grandmotherly voice, Rokara knew that the older mage was probing.

'I have much to concentrate on. We are in darkspawn territory, after all, looking for a broodmother.'

'And yet, that is not where your mind is.'

Rokara glanced at her. 'No, it's not.'

'I won't ask where exactly your mind is. I'm sure you assume that I have already guessed. I will only give you some advice.'

'And what advice would that be?'

The older mage glanced to the leather cord around Rokara's neck. She had noticed the miniature carved griffon that hung close to her heart, the same one she had seen Alistair carving during the day after she had tried to comfort him. Rokara quickly tucked the crest back beneath her robes.

Wynne smiled knowingly. 'Follow your heart.'

Rokara pursed her lips. 'Wynne, there's something I need to tell you, but I'm worried you'll think very differently of me if I do.'

'I may be an old woman, but my mind is open.'

'I… I have lied to you. I'm not from the Janin Circle. You wouldn't remember me. I spent most of my time when I wasn't resisting the Templars in solitude.'

'What are you saying?'

'My name is not–' she glanced quickly to Alistair, making sure that he wasn't listening. 'I chose my name when I… when I fled the Circle Tower. You knew me as–'

'Sinistra.' Wynne's eyes widened. 'I knew there was something about you. My goodness child, you have changed so much. You were such a tiny thing, even as you reached womanhood.'

'I–' she bit her lip. 'I was never treated… well, in the Tower.'

'What does that mean?'

'The Templar Antonius, the one who brought me to the tower. Do you remember him?'

'Antonius Fenneric? I do. I heard that he died, quite recently. Darkspawn, I believe.'

'Yes. You know that I had served his household?'

'Yes.'

'Something changed in him when he became a Templar. He had been like a brother, but they warped his mind. When he discovered I had magic in me, he hurt his parents to take me to the Tower.'

'I had heard they had tried to protect you, but I had never been sure until now.'

'He did everything in his power to hurt me. The reason I was in trouble so often was because other mages would share their food with me, leading the Templars to believe that I was trading… favours, even at 12 years old, or I would be forced to steal food to get any. He made sure I spent as much time in isolation as possible.'

'But if you are Sinistra, that means that you've never–'

'Completed my Harrowing. No. If I stayed in the Tower, I never would have either. They were going to make me Tranquil.'

'But… you are such a fine mage. Your control is immense, especially considering you were only an apprentice when you escaped the Tower.'

'Antonius convinced them otherwise.'

Something flashed in Wynne's eyes. 'You're an apostate, then.'

She nodded.

'You stole your phylactery.'

'And destroyed it. You'll never find me if I run.'

'No, I would not, but neither would Alistair,' she said, 'I am not here to judge you Rokara. I feel that you spend a lot of time doing that yourself, but your past is exactly that: the past. I know the Circle of Magi is not perfect. I have seen its many faces. I respect that you made your choice, and that choice will always be your own from now on. I stand by my advice.'

Wynne left Rokara to her thoughts, walking a little further ahead. As she walked in silence, she pulled at the leather cord that hung from her neck. She turned the carved griffon in her fingers.

'I think we should stop for a moment,' Shale said at the front, 'I feel something, vibrations in the earth.'

They gathered together, listening intently.

Rokara could feel it now too. It was a faint but steady rhythm.

'Something's coming.'

The vibration became stronger. Rokara glanced to her feet, watching as small stones bounced in time until the rhythm became so strong that rocks trickled down from the ceiling like hailstones.

'Whatever it is, I'm going to guess it won't be small.'

'The broodmother?' Rokara asked as they backed together.

'They are not very mobile. Does it know anything about darkspawn?'

'This is not the time to bicker,' Alistair snapped.

'I simply asked if it knew about darkspawn. That is fair, is it not?'

'Shale!' Wynne cried.

A crash sounded in the tunnel, and a rush of dust pelted them. Alistair raised his shield, and the mages used their sleeves to cover their face. Shale stood amongst the cloud, staring intently forward.

'It is an ogre.'

'A _what_?' Rokara hissed.

'An ogre. It looks rather angry. Shall we crush its head?'

'Good plan!' Alistair called. He straightened, his sword at the ready as the dust settled. 'All right, let's go!'

The ogre shook its head. It had crashed through the wall with great force, but it was recovering, rising to its full towering height. Rokara had to shake herself. She had never seen an ogre outside of books, had never imaged in they could be so immense.

She followed Wynne forward, casting from a distance as Alistair and Shale attacked. Alistair slashed at its legs and lower torso while Shale pummelled it with heavy fists. Alistair darted behind it and the ogre turned to follow him.

'It's too powerful for me to control,' Rokara called above its roars.

'You are a powerful mage, Rokara. I will protect Alistair and Shale. Use your strongest spells.'

Alistair pulled back, blocking a punch from the ogre with his shield.

'But what if–'

'They will be safe, I promise, now go!'

Rokara grit her teeth. She raised her staff, drawing on her magic. She cried out as she brought forth an inferno.

* * *

A firestorm lashed the ogre, and it roared with fury. The wind whipped at Alistair, but he felt none of the flame that surrounded him. He stepped back, bashing his shield with his sword, trying to taunt it, but it could not hear him above the roar of the flames. It hefted a boulder into its massive arms. He watched as it turned to face Rokara.

'No!'

He slashed the back of its ankle, sprinting for her. He threw his sword to the ground, dropping low to charge.

With a final roar behind him, the ogre threw the boulder with all its might.

He slid to her, his arm wrapping around her waist, bundling her up as he threw himself sideways, tucking her underneath him as he fell.

The boulder crashed into the wall where she had been standing moments before, shattering. He raised his shield to his shoulder, supporting it as rocks rained down. When they had finally stopped, he dropped his shield from his arm with a harsh growl of pain, collapsing, barely stopping himself from landing on her. His breath was sharp. When he opened his eyes, dust scratched at them, but he felt no pain, not when he found gold staring back at him.

'Alistair.'

'I…' he brushed a thumb over her dirt covered cheek, 'I didn't think I was going to reach you.'

She felt her breath hitch as he leant closer, but she saw his eyes darken. He pulled himself to his feet, then offered his hands. He helped her stand, brushing pebbles from her hair, but as quickly as he had raised his hand, he retracted it as if he had been struck. The look in his eyes was unfathomable. He turned from her, retrieving his shield and sword.

'Ah, the cavalry has arrived,' Shale said.

The sound of armoured men approached. One of the divisions filed through the opening made by the ogre.

The dwarf at the head of the group glanced at the body of the ogre. 'Well, that answers that question. Clearly. he didn't want to face so many dwarves.'

'Apparently not,' Shale said.

'The ogre came from your tunnel?'

The dwarf nodded. 'We flushed him out. Expected we'd have a fight on our hands, but after he charged through us.' The dwarf shrugged. 'Just kept going.'

'Lucky us,' Alistair said sarcastically, 'our route _was_ clear. We're returning to camp.'

'Ours too now, but we'll do a final check as we march back.'

The dwarves filed back whence they came.

'Well, now that excitement is over, we should get back,' Shale said, 'I didn't even get to crush its head, but I suppose its magic was effective.'

Shale turned, and Alistair followed.

'Are you alright, Rokara?'

'I'm fine Wynne, thank you. I think you best check on Alistair. Armour and shield aside, those rocks can't have been light.'

She nodded, catching up to him.

'Alistair, are you injured?'

'I seem to be in once piece, but I may get you to look at my shoulder when we get back to camp.'

'You should be more careful, young man.'

He glanced back, that same look still in his eyes. 'It was worth it.'

'Alright, I'll take a look when we get back.'

'Wynne?'

'Yes, Alistair?

'There is one thing… my shirt has a hole in it.'

'And?

'Would… would you mend it? When we get back to camp?'

'I am sure you are capable of mending your clothes, Alistair.'

'I know, it's just that, well, sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterwards, and this is a new shirt from Bhelen. And you're, you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers are good at that sort of thing, aren't they? You don't want me to have to fight the broodmother in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger.'

'Oh, alright. I'll mend it when we get to the camp.'

'Ooh! And while you're at it, I think the elbow might need patching too.'

'Careful, young man or puckered garments will be the _least_ of your problems.'

Rokara barely stifled a laugh.

'What does it laugh at?' Shale asked, walking beside Rokara. As the tunnel narrowed, Shale had fallen back.

'Oh, it's just their banter. If I didn't know better, I would swear that she was his grandmother.'

Shale reached out a sturdy arm, slowing down. Rokara fell into step, the gap between the two pairs widening.

'I must ask it, what does it intend to do with Alistair?'

Rokara glanced up. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, does it intend to harm Alistair like the last human?' Shale asked, 'I have seen the way he looks at it, and I know what it means, even if your squishy emotions bore me so.'

'I… no. No, I don't intend to hurt him Shale.'

'Then why does it not rub its body against Alistair? That is clearly what it wants to do.'

'I'm sorry?'

'It likes him, does it not?'

'I, well, yes. I do.'

'I suppose for a flesh creature, he is attractive, or so it would seem. I have seen other squishy people watch him when he walks around. Are you attracted to his soft shell?'

'Yes.'

'Then what is the problem?'

'I'm a mage, and a… an apostate.'

'That is obvious. But by all accounts, it is a good mage. Clearly then, that is not the real problem.'

This golem certainly was perceptive.

'Alistair is human,' Rokara said, 'I'm… not.'

'Also obvious. Elves are considered a servile race, or so I have seen. You fear humans then?'

'No, I don't. I– you're twisting my words. I don't fear Alistair; I just think that he would be better off with someone else. Someone human.'

'I don't understand. Even if it is an elf, it clearly is brave. It killed an ogre. It also looks the same as any other flesh creature. What is the difference?'

'I… I don't know.'

'Obviously,' Shale said, tone dripping with sarcasm, 'whatever it decides, I respect that it is honest with me. But, if it hurts Alistair, I will crush it.'

'I can respect that.'

They continued in silence. She was growing to appreciate the golem's bluntness. It had given her much to think about.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

 _Ortan Thaig Base Camp_

 _The Deep Roads_

When they returned to camp, Alistair and Shale split from the group to report to Bhelen. Rokara and Wynne retired to their tents, arranged around a common fire pit.

Rokara was relieved to have a chance to remove her dusty robes. She quickly stripped to her undergarments. She shook the dirt from her hair, combining fiery strands with her fingers a best as she could. She knew she would have to wait until they returned to the city to wash it.

Some basic bathing supplies had been left in the tent for her while they were in the Deep Roads. She poured some water from the large pitcher into the basin, using the clean cloth which had been draped on the edge to scrub dirt from her face and eyes. She washed her body, then gingerly wiped her feet. They were blistered from the long treks they had done in recent weeks, the skin tender to the touch. She had considered asking Wynne to heal them, but knew it would be futile: they would simply blister again.

She dried herself and began sorting through her small pack. She had packed some clothes to wear around the camp. Although she loved the dresses, she had decided that something more sensible would be best. She pulled out a pair of soft leather trousers and a burgundy tunic.

'Rokara, Bhelen has–' he broke off with a sudden cry.

She held the tunic against her chest and spun on her toes in one motion. Alistair stood with his back to her, rigid. He wore only the bottom half of his armour, having handed his shirt to Wynne to mend.

'Alistair! Why didn't you knock?' she growled.

'How am I supposed to knock on a tent?'

He nearly turned around in his frustration but seemed to stop himself with a yelp.

'You _call out_ ,' she said through gritted teeth.

'I'm sorry, I just. I didn't think.'

'Just. Just don't turn around, okay?'

'I can do that.'

She watched him for a moment. Satisfied that he was statuesque enough, she pulled the tunic over her head.

'What's so important that you barged in here for anyway? _Shirtless_.'

Somehow, his shoulders stiffened further. 'Oh, ah, Bhelen asked us to have dinner in his tent tonight. There's not much we can do until the final divisions come back.'

'And you couldn't have told me that from outside the tent?' she asked as she quickly pulled her pants on. She tightened the lacing at the front, not wanting them to end up around her ankles.

'I… I wasn't thinking.'

She resisted the urge to say _clearly_ , but she found herself tying the belt of the tunic slowly, unable to stop herself from gazing at his broad shoulders. He had placed his hands on his hips, making the muscles of his shoulder bunch and flex. He had a few scars scattered across his skin. Not surprising, considering he was a warrior, but she had to resist the urge to ask him how he got a particularly large line on his shoulder blade.

'Okay, you can turn around.'

He peeked slowly over his shoulder as if to confirm that she was indeed dressed. When he turned fully, she felt her breath hitch. She could not deny that his – what had Shale called it? His soft shell? – Was something to behold. Although, she knew that he was not all that soft. His towering frame was roped with muscle toned from years of training and battle. She realised that he had to duck, the tent too short to accommodate his towering height.

Something hot welled inside her as her gaze lingered on his chest. She remembered the night in his room, remembered the feel of his skin beneath her hands, the way he had drawn her body tightly against his own. She had felt his need, had cradled his body with her own so intimately. Despite everything, she found herself craving his touch once again.

'A… about the other night,' he said, 'when I–'

'When we kissed.'

 _Do I really sound that breathless?_

'Yes, when we– I'm sorry if I hurt you. I have no excuse, but I…' his hands dropped to his side, his fists clenching tight. 'I did not mean to force myself upon you, Roka.'

'Alistair…'

He cleared his throat. 'Well, I guess I'll go, ah, get changed. I'll see you at dinner.'

He flashed a nervous smile at her then ducked out of the tent, nearly crashing into the support pole in the middle of the entrance.

* * *

Alistair emerged from Rokara's tent, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed, another surprised cry escaping him when his eyes fell on Wynne. She sat outside her tent, paused mid stitch, a grin on her face.

'Wrong tent, Alistair?' she asked, quirking a pale eyebrow at him.

His skin flushed impossibly brighter. 'Something like that.'

He turned on his heel, and Wynne stifled a laugh as he walked rigidly towards his tent, disappearing within.

'Ah, they'll work themselves out eventually,' she muttered, a smile on her lips as she shook her head. She picked up the thread once more, continuing her repairs, the smile remaining on her face as she worked.

She looked up only when Rokara exited her tent. She sat across from Wynne. Her feet were bare, but the rocky surface did not seem to bother her.

When Wynne looked up, she caught the young mage's eyes.

'Come, sit beside me.'

Rokara obliged.

'My eyes are not what they used to be,' Wynne said, 'but I can see well enough. You seem to have taken my advice on board.'

'I… you saw him leave my tent,' she said, 'nothing happened. He came to tell me that we are to have dinner with Bhelen.'

'He could have told you that from outside the tent.'

'That's what I said,' she sighed, kicking a small stone absently.

Wynne nudged Rokara's ribs with her elbow. 'I bet it wasn't entirely unwelcome,' she said with a wink.

Roksasin's eyes widened. 'You're old enough to be his mother!'

'Indeed. And in some ways, I see him as a son, but, as I said, I can see well enough.'

'Maker preserve me,' Rokara breathed.

'Have you thought about what I said in the Deep Roads?'

'Shale spoke to me also,' she said, 'are you two playing matchmakers?'

'My dear, no. You seem to be doing that just fine yourself. But Shale is observant. Shale has spent much of life observing.'

'I can agree with you there.'

'May I ask, what did Shale say?'

'Shale said, well, that I look the same as any other flesh creature,' she said, 'but I don't, not really.' She pointed at her ears.

'Yes, I see them. So?'

This woman would be the death of her. 'Ok, fine!' she said, shooting up, 'I get it, you're super accepting lady. But that doesn't mean that everyone else is.'

'What do they matter?'

'Because…'

'You can't answer, can you?' she said, 'You have faced a great deal of prejudice in your young life. I know it is hard to change what you have been conditioned to accept, but,' she turned away from Rokara, a smile on her lips, 'I think you'll find that a lot of people don't care what your ears look like, and those people are the only ones that really matter.'

Rokara followed her gaze. Alistair was emerging from his tent. When he looked up, his eyes locked with hers, a flash of heat searing her very soul. He held her stare until her heart hammered in her chest. She only broke the contact when Wynne muttered beside her.

'Blasted needle,' she said, sucking on her thumb. When she opened her hand, blood pooled slowly on her fingertip.

'Let me finish that,' Rokara said, thankful for the distraction. She sat beside Wynne again, pulling the garment from the older mage's lap. Her fine fingers worked deftly as she finished repairing the hole. She tied off the knot, breaking the thread between her teeth.

She returned the needle to Wynne and stood, walking to Alistair. She held out the shirt.

'All fixed.'

'Thanks,' he said, 'are you ready to go to dinner? Bhelen's tent is just over here.'

'My stomach says yes.'

He smiled, turning back to place the bundled shirt in his tent. He offered his arm as he had on the first night, and she felt her heart skip.

As they walked away together, Wynne stood to follow, a soft smile lighting her lips. _They're going to be just fine._

* * *

Even in the Deep Roads, the King was a fantastic host. He fed and watered them well, providing roasted meat, earthen vegetables, and a steady supply of dwarven ale.

'As of two hours ago, three divisions remain in the Thaig, but their tunnels were longer than some of the others. I expect that they will all return by the early hours of the morn, one with news of the broodmother,' Bhelen said, 'the other reports I have received have been promising. The forces that held the line while we prepared suffered only one injury from an ogre, though I hear that the four of you managed to kill it.'

'We did. It made quite the entrance,' Shale remarked. Although the golem didn't eat, it had joined the dinner, standing at the end of the table.

Bhelen laughed, 'I had heard that.'

'Apart from the ogre, we didn't see many darkspawn.'

'I'll take that as good news, that we have narrowed the search. Some divisions encountered a few stragglers, but by all accounts, they were quickly dispatched. I would assume it will be the group which finds the broodmother tunnel that will have faced the most darkspawn.'

'Your soldiers are formidable, Bhelen,' Wynne said, 'I am certain we will see them all return.'

'I hope so. You should all get some rest. I sense a battle in our future. I would not want any of you lagging in it; I am trusting you all to be part of the first charge.'

They each said goodnight.

'I think I shall watch the training,' Shale said, 'I do find it entertaining to watch you creatures flail at each other.'

'Goodnight, Shale.'

The golem wandered off.

'The feeling of fire before a battle,' Wynne said as they approached their group of tents, 'I must admit that it's growing weaker.'

'You've got plenty of fight in you yet, Wynne,' Alistair said with a grin.

'I shall hope so,' she said, 'I know you'll both be pouring over that tactical plan that Bhelen has drawn up, but don't stay up too late.'

'We won't.'

'Goodnight to you both,' she said, disappearing into her tent.

'Come on, I have a desk in my tent,' Alistair said, 'we'll set up there.'

He entered first, and she followed. His tent was slightly larger than hers, or at least taller: he could almost stretch to his full height inside. He pulled the desk out from the side of the ten, spreading the sheets across it. He could easily reach both sides of the table top, his hands gripping the edges to support himself as he looked over the map.

'From what Bhelen said, these are the three tunnels still being searched.'

She moved closer, standing opposite him and he pointed to the sections on the map.

'Now, the darkspawn want to protect the broodmother, so this tunnel,' he placed his finger on the entrance then slowly traced it to the end, 'while technically not the longest, is the deepest. I think that's where they broodmother will be.'

'It looks quite narrow.'

'It is, although I know that particular tunnel is quite high, especially through here,' he said, pointing to the spot, 'if there are darkspawn protecting the broodmother, which I suspect there will be, we can set up a shield wall here. Archers can fire over the wall to clear out most of the force before we advance. If we do it right, we shouldn't have any casualties, and injuries can be kept to a minimum.'

'That would be ideal,' she said, 'Wynne and I could also stun the force as much as possible. If I ice the ground, Wynne should be free to reinforce the strength of the shield wall, and it'll be difficult for them to keep their footing. It may even make it easier for the archers to coordinate their bombardment, especially if we have two or three contingents rotating their fire.'

'That's an excellent idea,' he said, 'you'd make a good Grey Warden, you know.'

'I'm not sure they'd accept an apostate in their ranks.'

'I would.'

'You know me,' she said, 'Besides, I'm still an elf, remember?'

'I've met several Elven Wardens.'

'Really?'

'Really,' he said, 'you still seem so surprised that there are people who like elves.'

'I know that not everyone is like the Templars, Alistair, but there are still plenty of people who are prejudiced against elves. And, I guess, in the Circle, I just got used to being treated poorly,' she said. She glanced away. 'Antonius used to encourage them to call me knife-ear.'

The desk creaked as Alistair's grip tightened on the desk. She glanced down to his hands but did not comment.

'If anyone and I mean _anyone_ , ever calls you that again…' He reached up. She thought that he was going to cup her cheek, but instead, he gently brushed his thumb over the top edge and peak of her ear, making it twitch. The skin was so sensitive that a shiver rolled down her spine. Her eyes flutter closed. When she found the strength to open them again, his gaze was fixed upon hers. 'I swear to you, Roka, I _will_ cut out their tongue. Slowly. With something blunt.'

'I like it when you call me Roka.'

His gaze grew heated.

'Alistair, about our kiss–'

'I know, I'm sorry. I've never done that before, kissed someone like that,' he said, 'I was just so relieved that you were beside me, and I–'

She placed a finger on his lip, silencing him. He stared at her with wide eyes, stunned.

'Listen,' she said. She waited a moment more until he nodded, then dropped her hand. 'Despite how much I've tried, I've thought of nothing but that kiss. I've… I've felt trapped by my race, by my power, for so long. One of the people I trusted most in this world betrayed me. I am scared, Alistair. I'm scared that you'll turn me away because I'm a mage. I'm scared because I know that people will judge you for being with me and that one day you'll find a beautiful human woman and–'

'Roka, _you_ are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on,' he said. His voice was rougher now, and she heard the table creak under his grip once more. 'From the moment I first saw your face in that cave, I have ached for you. I have…' he bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he was thinking.

He found her golden gaze, the shimmering pools hardening his resolve.

'Yes?' she said, her voice barely a whisper.

'Roka I… I am not ashamed to say that I have taken myself in hand to thoughts of your touch, and when I saw you in the tent before, I… I have entertained thoughts so impure that I have sullied the vows I _never_ took.'

'Alistair…'

The heat in his gaze enveloped her. When his eyes trailed to her lips, she felt it like a caress.

'Tell me you need me, Roka,' he said, his voice low, hungry, 'and I am yours.'

'Kiss me.'

The table clattered as he threw it aside. His hands grasped her hips, crushing her body to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as his arms surrounded her, drawing her up onto her toes so that he could claim her lips.

His calloused fingers brushed her skin beneath her tunic, his palms flattening on her back to draw her tighter against his chest. His kiss ignited something deep inside her, her body burning at his touch. When he stripped her tunic, his eyes drifted to caress her alabaster skin. He untied her undergarment, his eyes never leaving her body as the fabric fluttered to the floor.

His hands dropped to grip her thighs. She gasped as he pulled her up his body, coaxing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Her nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of his shirt, sensation rippling through her. She bit her lip, barely stifling a whimper as his hands moved to cradle her ass, his hips grinding, working her into a frenzy.

He turned, dropping to his knees at the base of the matt. He laid her out before him, stripping his shirt to reveal his battle-hardened body. It didn't matter that she had seen him shirtless before. She was hit anew by a wave of desire, his muscles rippling as he moved over her body, his shoulders rolling like a predator.

He claimed her lips again, his kiss deeper. His calloused palm trailed down her supple stomach. Her skin tingled beneath his hand, her body arching to his touch. As he pulled on the tie of her pants, he dropped his lips to her skin. She moaned as his tongue traced her nipple, the sound turning to a broken cry as he nibbled. Her fingers filtered through his short hair, holding his head close as he suckled her for a moment more before his lips trailed across her chest. He took the pert tip into his mouth and her centre clenched with need. When he pulled back she nearly cried out from the loss of connection, but his fingers dipped below the waist of her pants, stripping them from her legs along with the final piece that would conceal her.

Her lips were swollen from his kiss; her delicate cheeks flushed with desire. Her slender body trembled at his touch as his hand slid slowly down her thigh.

'Maker's breath, but you are beautiful,' he whispered as he gazed at her, his eyes meeting her golden stare, 'I am a lucky man.'

He coaxed her to part her legs for him and dropped to trail his lips over her stomach. His hands found her hips, his touch gentle as his fingers stroked her skin.

'Roka, I have never tasted a woman before,' he said, his eyes finding hers. Her golden gaze was hooded, her breath sharp. 'I want… to taste you. Would you let me?'

'Alistair... please.'

When his tongue met her silken skin, her legs fell wide. She whimpered at his kiss, her hips arching at the sensations as he learned her body with slow, soft licks. She trembled, and her hands found his soft hair once more, urging him to continue. His gentle grip tightened as he licked her, his tongue firm against her. He lifted her body to his tongue, lapping at her desire like a man wild with thirst. When he circled her clit, his name fell from her lips like a prayer, a whimper escaping her throat as her body clenched with need. Fire curled deep inside her, her back arching. Her nails scraped his scalp, her breath coming in sharp pants as he brought her to her peak, a final hard lick tipping her over the edge.

She cried out as her orgasm rippled through her. His attention never turned from her body, his tongue lapping at her core. As her climax began to subside, her skin tingled, darts of electricity reaching her toes, her feet curling as he brought her to the edge once more. He slowed, holding her there as he explored her skin. He gently lowered her hips to the matt. Although one hand moved from her hip, the other pinned her down. He stopped, his lips trailing to kiss the supple curve of her thigh. He slid his finger over her slick core before he pressed into the centre of her need.

Her back left the matt as his finger filled her, his tongue returning to her clit. He eased deeper, learning her body in a way no one ever had. When he quickened his strokes, she felt her nerves clench, preparing for another climax.

He withdrew his finger, and she ached in its absence. She lifted her head, watching as he untied his pants and pushed them down his hips. When his erection sprang free, she bit her bottom lip. He watched her intently as she rose to her knees. She spread her delicate hands over his chest, his muscles dancing as she trailed her fingers down the muscled expanse to his hips.

When she touched him, his body trembled. His thick length pulsed in her hand, a harsh moan falling from his lips as she stroked him. His hands cupped her cheeks. He bent his head to hers, a deep moan rumbling through him as she sought to learn his body as he had hers. She pressed her lips to his chest, gently rolling her hand in her strokes. His hard body shook with need.

'Roka,' he breathed, his lips trailing to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin, a shiver rolling down her spine as he brushed his stubbled cheek against the sensitive tip. He grazed his lips over the top edge, remembering how she had reacted to his touch.

His hands trailed down her arms. One gripped her wrist, pulling her hand from his aching cock before he could lose control, his other arm wrapping around her wrist. He laid her back on the matt, his hips between her thighs. His length settled against her slick core, and he struggled to reign himself in, her body arching to cradle him. He thrust the throbbing head over her clit, coating himself in her arousal, the pleasure he had given her.

'Alistair…'

He angled his hips, the head of his cock finding her centre. He thrust slowly, easing into her tight body. She moaned as he filled her, stretching her. She took him eagerly. She had never experienced such fullness, her breath hitching, her nails clawing at his back with need. Her hands trailed to his toned hips, then to his fine cheeks. When she gripped his ass, her nails biting into his flesh, he bucked forward with a broken moan. He pulled her hands from his skin, pinning her arms above her head. He claimed her lips with a searing kiss, and she moaned, tasting herself on his tongue. His chest rubbed against her aching nipples, his hips grinding against hers in a relentless rhythm.

He dropped his hands to her waist, rising on his knees. He lifted her hips, driving deeper inside her. She cried out at the new angle, the cry turning to a scream as he took a hand from her hip, his fingers spreading over her belly as his thumb circled her clit. Her hands clung to the top edge of the matt, desperate for something to hold onto as he rode her.

The tent filled with the sound of their breath, with their moans, with the sound of their skin meeting in abandon. His eyes trailed up the length of her body, past her slender waist, her perfect pert breasts with their dusky nipples that had tasted so sweet on his tongue, past her lips, still swollen from his kiss. His gaze settled on her golden eyes. In the dimly lit tent, they glowed. He held her focus, watching the moment she tipped over the edge.

Her orgasm rippled through her once more, her centre clenching impossibly tighter around his shaft. He rode her through her climax until he could hold on no more. As his hot seed spilt deep inside her, a harsh cry ripped from his chest. His body arched as he called her name, the last of his orgasm spent.

He eased her hips down, his body shaking. He would have collapsed atop her if he had not caught his weight on his elbows. He swept fiery strands from her face, her forehead damp with sweat from their exertion. He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

His kiss was softer now. He lingered on her lips before he trailed kisses over her cheek, to her ear. When she shivered, he could not hide a smirk.

He found the strength to pull away from her, but only to find a clean cloth.

'I–'

'It's my mess, Roka,' he said as he sat beside her, 'I'm not going to leave you with it.'

She felt her cheeks flush. The only other man she had been with had come and gone, or so to speak. Alistair gently cleaned her skin before he tended to himself. When he had finished, he lay beside her, drawing her to his side. Her fingers traced absent patterns across his chest, his skin shivering in the wake of her touch.

He pulled back a little when something pinched his skin. A cord hung around her neck, the same strip that had once held her phylactery. He tucked his finger beneath the cord, pulling gently on the leather. Tied on the end was the griffon he had carved.

'You've worn it since–'

'Since the night you left the rose in my room,' she said, 'yes.'

'Roka,' he whispered, 'I…'

He could not find the words. He claimed her lips, trying to express in his kiss all that he wanted to say. He tucked her against him, holding her slender body so tightly he feared he might break her, but she squeezed back just as hard. As their breaths slowed, she listened to his heartbeat, drifting off in his arms to the steady rhythm that matched her own.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Alistair was warm when he awoke, but this time, when he opened his eyes to a wall of fiery-red hair, he did not startle. He wrapped his arm tighter around Rokara's waist, drawing her slender body closer. He swept her hair from her neck, his lips brushing over her soft skin. She shivered as she began to stir and she stretched languidly against him. When she twisted her hips, he had to bite his bottom lip, his body already awake to her movements.

'Roka,' he whispered, placing a kiss on her ear, a smile breaking on his lips, ' _Ro_ -ka.'

She rolled to face him, nuzzling into his chest. She looped a slender leg over his hip, her body cradling him.

'You're doing that on purpose,' he said as she wiggled.

She lifted her head, nibbling her bottom lip. 'I might be,' she said.

The fire in her eyes ignited him. It took all his strength to stop himself from flipping her to her back.

'I would spend the day exploring every inch of your skin.'

She quirked a brow at him. 'Would?'

'Unfortunately, despite the demands of my… well, we still have a broodmother to kill.'

'Well, if I can't have you now,' she said, 'the moment we get back to Orzammar, we're locking ourselves in a room, and I won't be letting you out until you're hoarse from screaming my name.'

He felt his body pulse at her words.

'You have a wicked tongue.'

Her eyes flashed once more. 'So do you.'

He pushed her back, claiming her lips. She moaned, her body arching.

'This is not getting ready for a battle,' she said, her voice muffled between kisses.

He growled, dropping back. She sat up, kicking aside the cover so she could hunt for her undergarments. She slipped them on, turning to find her pants.

Alistair had propped himself up on his elbows. He watched her, his gaze heated.

'You bent over like that on purpose too, didn't you?' he asked, his voice rougher.

She pulled her pants over her slender hips, tying them. She smirked. 'I might have.'

'That's cruel.'

'Think of it as your motivation to make it through the battle.'

She tied her tunic, running her fingers through her hair to straighten out the strands. She cupped his stubbled cheek as she crouched down beside him, taking a final kiss.

* * *

When Rokara emerged from Alistair's tent, she was greeted by a polite cough. Wynne was perched outside her tent, Shale by her side. They each quirked a brow. A knowing smirk lit the old mage's lips.

'Seems you took my advice.'

Shale glanced down at Wynne. 'Did they finally rub themselves together?'

'It would seem so,' Wynne said.

Rokara smiled meekly, bailing into her tent.

* * *

Bhelen compiled his best men, and the four companions gathered together to make their final preparations. They discussed the final strategy, including the additions that Alistair and Rokara had debated the night before. As Alistair had suspected, the contingent sent to the deepest tunnel in the Thaig had discovered signs of the broodmother, reporting back in the early hours of the morning. Although they had only encountered a small number of darkspawn, they had reported evidence of a fresh brood.

Satisfied with the preparations, they began their march into the depths of the Thaig. It would be a steady two-hour hike down into the deepest section, with Alistair and Bhelen leading. Rokara, Wynne, and Shale formed a line behind, ahead of Bhelen's men.

As they neared the deepest part of the Thaig, a familiar scent filled Alistair's nose.

'It's down here,' he said, glancing to Bhelen, 'we're close.'

Alistair pulled his shield from his back and unsheathed his sword. Bhelen followed his actions, preparing to face whatever would greet them in the tunnel ahead.

'I can hear something,' Rokara said. The tunnel hummed now, louder with each step they took.

Everyone was on high alert, focused. Alistair's announcement had filtered through the contingent. The dwarves' excitement was palpable in the air.

The tunnel rumbled ahead, and a deep growl sounded. Rokara glanced to Wynne, the older mage nodding. Shale moved forward as the mages filtered to the sides, the shield bearers marching ahead, ready to form the defensive line. The grunts of the broodmother became louder, screeches and growls intermingling with the sounds.

'Darkspawn,' Shale said.

Bhelen nodded.

When they rounded a corner, Rokara was greeted with her first look at the broodmother. Even so far down the tunnel, she was truly monstrous, her massive body shaking with every movement. Tentacles reached up from the ground, flailing slowly as the broodmother observed its darkspawn brood.

Alistair held up his hand. They were far enough back not to be noticed. The dwarves had been briefed before they left: if they kept quiet and stayed back, they could remain unnoticed, the darkspawn too distracted by their brawling.

'Genlocks,' Alistair whispered.

'As I feared,' Bhelen said, 'a dwarf, probably a scavenger.'

'Not anymore,' Shale said.

Alistair turned, pushing back behind the line with Shale. The small army marched slowly forward in formation until the shield bearers lined up, preparing the barricade. Behind them, archers strung their bows loosely, forming three lines. Rokara and Wynne stood to the sides, ready to control the darkspawn and reinforce the defence.

'On my signal, we engage,' Bhelen said, the orders moving back through his men. He raised his sword, his arm steady. Bow strings tightened beside Rokara, the first line of archers at the ready.

The King dropped his arm.

The arrows whistled softly as they sailed over the barricade. When they hit home, the tunnel fell silent. The broodmother turned her heavy head. Her screech was deafening; the genlocks turned. The shield bearers braced, a second barrage of arrows flying as the genlocks charged. The arrows felled the initial charge, but more followed.

'Forward!' Alistair roared.

The shield bearers lifted, marching ahead a few feet before they formed once more. The line moved forward, swiftly dispatching the genlocks that charged until they came face to face with the broodmother.

'Break!'

The shield bearers parted. Alistair, Shale, and Bhelen rushed ahead. Wynne cast her strongest protective spells while Rokara charged her staff with fire, preparing to create a firestorm. The inferno whipped at the tentacles that rose from the stone floor, the broodmother's screech filling the cavernous space.

The archers retreated to the back, sword bearers rushing to join the fray.

Rokara climbed onto a rock, looking for a better vantage point from behind the shield bearers. With a better line of sight, she shifted her focus to control, freezing as many tentacles as she could. They shattered under the force of dwarven steel.

The broodmother's strength was faltering. She lashed out at Alistair, Shale, and Bhelen, but she was slower now, clumsy as the assault weakened her.

The firestorm subsided, and the air cleared. Rokara prepared to light the room once more, but movement behind the broodmother stopped her spell. Shadows flickered menacingly behind her massive form.

 _We're not at the end of the tunnel_.

'Incoming!' she screamed above the clash of steel.

The call came too late. A hoard marched forward, armed with the weapons of centuries of fallen dwarves. The genlocks rushed to guard their falling broodmother, surrounding the fighters at the fore.

Surrounding Alistair.

'Rokara, duck!' Wynne shouted.

The genlocks fired their crossbows. The shield bearers blocked the lower shots, but others sailed over the barricade. Rokara felt an arrow sail past her ear, clipping the sharp tip. Pain seared her and she reached up instinctively, blood coating her palm.

Genlocks rushed the shield wall, stabbing through any gap they could find. Wynne stumbled back, losing sight of the melee.

Instinct flooded Rokara. She rushed forward, pushing through the line. She froze any creature in her path, shattering some as she neared the broodmother. She stared up at the monster, and it turned to her, raising an arm to attack.

Rokara planted her staff in the stone at her feet, raising her bloodied hand. A cry wrenched from her lips as she cast her spell. She felt her strength drain as the genlocks froze in place, their bodies twitching as their tainted blood boiled within their veins. The cavern seemed to grow quiet, the screeches of the dying genlocks muffled in her ears. Monsters fell around her, the clash of weapons slowing. She watched as the broodmother slumped forward, her massive body lifeless, drained of its final breath.

She gripped her staff tighter as black spots danced in her vision. She dropped to her knees. She could see movement around her, the dwarves turning to coloured streaks as they hurried to help their friends.

When she saw his winged helmet rise above the stocky fighters, relief washed through her. He lowered his shield, his eyes finding hers among the din of celebration. When his gaze met hers, he dropped his shield, pushing aside the dwarves that blocked his path.

 _He's alive_ , she thought, her vision clouding with black, unaware that the scream filling her ears had come from Alistair.

* * *

'Rokara,' a voice called softly in her sleep.

She dragged her eyes open. Wynne looked down at her.

'You gave us an awful fright, young lady,' she said, slowly coaxing her to sit up.

They were still in the cave, bodies littered around them. Dwarves bustled around, tending to the wounded or preparing for the march back to the camp. Wynne helped Rokara to her feet.

'It's over?' Rokara asked. The older mage nodded. Wynne helped her to her feet and handed Rokara her staff.

'Did I… faint?'

'Yes, but only for a few minutes,' Wynne said, 'you're a very strong mage to have cast that spell.'

Rokara glanced at her bloodied hand.

'I guess so.'

'I had no idea you knew Blo–'

'Where's Alistair?' Rokara interrupted. She couldn't bear to hear the words.

Wynne nodded, looking in his direction. She was excited to see him safe, despite the gore that coated his armour, but her smile faltered at his gaze. After everything they had been through, she had hoped that he might accept this part of her, but the vacant stare that filled his eyes as the dust settled was soul crushing.

She started towards him.

'Alistair.'

'We'll talk about this when we get back to Orzammar,' he said. He did not meet her gaze, his face blank, his eyes glazed. He turned from her, marching away to gather the forces.

They returned to the camp in silence. Wynne tried to pull Rokara aside, but she brushed her off. She knew that she was already going to be judged. She could take none from the mage beside her, someone she had grown to respect so greatly.

At the camp, with victory secured, the pack up began. Some dwarves remained to celebrate, but Bhelen led the way from the Deep Roads with Alistair at his side. It was a long hike out after so much exertion, but Rokara was relieved when they reached the city. She was one step closer to the surface.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

 _Royal Guest House_

 _Diamond Quarter, Orzammar_

As soon as she entered the guest house, she rushed to her room. She slammed the door closed, leaning against it for a moment. Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She went straight to the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at her hand to strip the blood from her skin.

She rushed to pack the necessities she would need to survive a trek through the mountains. She had done it before, and she would do it again. She had to. Word would spread of the maleficar that helped the dwarves, and the Templars would come. They would hunt her, but they would fail.

She dropped her pack against the doorframe with her wolf-fur coat and bear fur. She kicked off her shoes, and they thumped into the wall a few feet away. As she searched the rest of her room for a pair more suitable for mountain hiking and any other necessities, a knock sounded on the heavy door.

'Leave me!' she yelled.

The door opened. She spun on her heels as Alistair entered. Her heart sank in her chest, her stomach churning. He closed the door behind himself, leaning against the frame as she had, his head bowed.

'I know what you're going to say, Alistair,' she said, feeling lost in the centre of the room, 'but when I met you, I had already decided not to use Blood Magic anymore. I knew you would never accept me if you found out. I never even wanted to do Blood Magic in the first place, but you don't survive in Frostback Mountains as a mage for as long as I did without it. I was an apprentice when I escaped. I knew enough magic to get me by, but I had no concept of just how powerful I could become, or how powerful I would need to be. The first time I cast a blood spell, it was instinct. My coat wasn't pieced together one wolf at a time. They followed my scent for days, surrounding me when I was too exhausted to run anymore. One moment I was cowering, waiting for them to take the first bite; the next, I was surrounded by dead wolves.'

He stalked towards the desk, his back to her. His fingers wound through his hair, gripping tight before he dropped them to his sides. She watched him for a moment. Without his armour, she could see his shoulder muscles tighten beneath his shirt, his hands balling into fists. He slammed them down, making the items on the desk jump.

'Come on, Alistair,' she said, anger sparking inside her, 'do it. Call me a maleficar. Call me a knife-ear. The words are burning in your mouth, so just spit them out. I would love to see you cut out your own tongue, or was that just a lie? I've heard it all, Alistair, and I've been lied to before,' she snarled the words, reaching into her robes. As tears started to burn in her eyes, she ripped the cord from her neck, clenching it tightly in her fist. She stared at the emblem, and the fight left her voice. 'You can stay in your perfect little world, Alistair. You wouldn't last one second in mine. If you had experienced even half the hatred I have faced in my life, you would have thrown yourself off the top of the Circle Tower. Maker knows I nearly did.'

As she tried to leave, he grasped her wrist. She levelled her eyes on his hand. She could not use force to escape, his grip too tight. He could break her, and he knew it.

'Let me go, Alistair.'

'You could have died.'

'But I didn't,' she snapped, 'what else was I supposed to do? We were surrounded Alistair. Should I have let Bhelen's men die? Let Wynne and Shale die? Let you die? You were so shaken by a nightmare of my death that you screamed in your sleep. Now imagine you had to live it. What would you have done to save me?'

'Anything.'

'Anything? Even if it went against your beliefs?'

'Yes.'

'Yet you condemn me for doing the same. You may not have taken your vows, Alistair, but deep down, a part of you is still a Templar.'

'No,' he said, 'no. I would never…' He seemed to choke on his words. 'You have to understand–'

'No, I don't. I have spent my entire life trying to understand the hatred of others. It doesn't matter how much I lo– it doesn't matter how I feel about you anymore. I won't be judged for trying to save my friends. For trying to save the man I…'

Rokara opened her hand. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes blurring as she stared at the carving. She had held the emblem so tightly that it had left an imprint in her skin. She pulled his fingers from her wrist, gently laying the griffon in his palm before she folded his fingers around it.

'Goodbye, Alistair.'

'Roka…'

She turned to pick up her pack from beside the door, but his hand grasped her wrist again. When she faced him, she was ready to throw a punch, but he anticipated the attack. He pinned her arms above her head. She gasped as he pressed closer, her back against the cold stone wall.

'Just when I think that I have you figured out, you surprise me again. There are parts of me, Roka, parts deep inside my soul that you have seared with your touch. I… I nearly lost you today. I can't… I should have known it would not be so easy, should have considered more variables. I forced you into the position that you were in, and you're right. I would do anything to save my friends.

'It doesn't matter anymore,' she said. She fought his grip, refusing to meet his gaze.

'It does,' he whispered, 'you keep putting words in my mouth when I haven't the ability to form my own. I'm not angry at you for using blood magic. I accept that you did what you needed to do, and I would see you do it again if it kept you safe.'

'I–'

'You once told me to listen. _Please_ , listen to me now,' he said. He released her wrists, his hands cupping her cheeks as he bent his forehead to hers. 'I am not angry with you, Roka. I could never be angry with you. I am angry at myself. I nearly lost you today, and you would never have known–' His breath shuddered from him. When he opened his eyes, she could see the tears that he had tried to hold back.

'Maker's breath, Roka. Being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not… ever. I should have told you when we made love in the tent, because when I held you then, I knew, but I didn't have the guts to tell you how hard I've fallen. I love you, Roka, so much that I can feel it dance like a fire in my soul,' he said, re-tying the cord around her neck, the griffon resting by her heart, 'please forgive me for allowing you to believe that I would think any less of you for using blood magic. I would cut my heart from my chest before I ever allowed my mind to utter a word against you.'

Relief flooded through her as his words echoed in her mind. She struggled to find her voice.

'Alistair…' she whispered. He pressed his lips to her forehead. She realised that, after everything he had said, he meant to leave her.

* * *

Alistair turned from her. She had every right to hate him: he knew all she had experienced, all the prejudice she had faced in her life, even in silence. It would only have taken one word in the Thaig to reassure her, but he had let his anger, anger directed at himself, overwhelm him.

His chest ached as he reached for the door knob, the pain rippling through his body. At that moment, he realised that he was feeling his heart break.

Slender fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. When he tried to pull from her grasp, her nails dug into his skin, pinching. He did not want to meet her gaze.

When she reached for him, he nearly darted backwards, but she wiped his tears from his cheeks. He leant into her touch, savouring this final moment with her, even though he could not bear to say goodbye. His towering frame shuddered, overwhelmed by her touch. This petite elf had been through so much, and he could not blame her for hating him.

'I love you, too.'

He held her hand against his skin and took a shaky breath, sure that his heart would explode at her words. He turned his head to place a kiss on her palm.

'Roka.'

She was still breathless from her anger and the sheer relief that had replaced it. Her heart hammered in her chest when he met her gaze, his eyes the colour of onyx in the darkened room, the depth of his emotion drawing her in.

'I need you,' she whispered.

'Then I am yours, my darling,' he said and she drew him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, 'always.'

He pushed her back against the wall, the impact making her gasp. She could see nothing beyond his towering frame as she wound her fingers into his soft hair, holding so tightly that he seemed to anchor her to the earth. She could feel every hard line of his body as he enveloped her in his embrace, his hands trailing to grasp her hips, drawing her impossibly closer. When he claimed her lips, she felt her body ignite under his touch. His kiss had been searing before, but now it burned her to her very soul like a brand.

He stripped her robes, tossing them to the floor at his feet before he gripped her thighs, lifting her lithe body easily. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms winding tighter around his neck as he carried her to the desk. He swept his arm across the surface blindly, the contents clattering to the stone floor. In the back of his mind, he heard something shatter, but he did not care to look.

He sat her on the desk and stripped his shirt, the fabric ripping in his haste. He shook it from his arms, his hands gripping her thighs to pull her closer. Her hips cradled him. He stripped her of her undergarments, her breath hitching against his lips.

He broke the kiss, but only to lay her back on the desk. He was hit anew by her beauty, her slender body trembling beneath his touch as he trailed his calloused palms over her hips, her stomach. He cupped her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as he circled her pert nipples with his thumbs and a moan tumbled from her lips. She arched her back, her hands covering his, encouraging him. He was thrilled by her guidance, his fingers following her slow, gentle movements.

He bent his head to her nipple, taking the tip between his lips. He flicked his tongue over it, earning a gasp as he trailed a hand down to her thigh. He massaged her, coaxing her hips wider.

He found her already slick with desire. He coated his finger in her arousal, her hips almost bucking as he circled her clit. He started slow, his pace quickening with each moan. When she rolled her hips at his touch, seeking, he slid his finger into her core. He thrust gently as his thumb found her clit.

With his head laid on her chest, he could feel her heartbeat thundering against her ribs, could hear her rapid breath. Her body clenched around him, her orgasm nearing. He met her gaze, her golden eyes glowing with passion as he coaxed her to her climax. She released a broken cry, and he could take no more.

He withdrew his finger, ripping at the cord to his pants until he could finally kick them off. He dragged her closer to the edge of the desk, wedging his hips between her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her waist, crushing her to his chest to claim her lips. Her body cradled him, and he thrust against her slick core, coating himself in her climax before he plunged into her waiting body.

He groaned at the heat that enveloped him. His grip on her thighs was almost bruising, but when he ground his hips against hers, his touch only heightened her pleasure. He could feel her orgasm subsiding, the sensation spurring his thrusts.

Her legs wound around his waist, her ankles locking at his back. She held on tightly. Each time he drove into her, she bounced on the desk. The heavy wooden legs beneath them screeched, the desk sliding on the stone floor with every thrust.

'I think–'

'Bed?'

'Yes.'

He lifted her, but only made it a few feet. A hoarse moan wrenched from his chest.

'Wall will do,' he said through clenched teeth.

Her back met the cold stone, and he shifted his hold, his arms cradling her, her knees hanging over his elbow, his fingers spreading over her hips.

'Alistair…'

'I know.'

He could feel his control slipping, sensations beginning to overwhelm him. He focused on her sharp breaths, on her fingernails as they dragged across his skin, on the way she moaned his name. He could feel her nearing her orgasm and he tilted his hips, finding the angle which would take him deeper. She whimpered as he slowed his pace. He rolled his hips to stimulate her sensitive clit as he thrust, and she felt heat pool in her core, her nerves clenching in anticipation.

He arched over her. She cradled his head in her hands, drawing his eyes to hers.

'Together,' she gasped.

'Always.'

With a final roll, her orgasm flooded through her, her toes curling as she screamed in abandon. Her core tightened around his aching shaft, and he could take no more. His muscles stiffened, his back rigid as he lost his final thread of control, his roar of pleasure filling her ears as he joined her.

His chest heaved, his body shaking. He shifted his hold on her and stumbled back to the bed. When his knees hit, he dropped down, sitting on the edge, still cradling her against his body.

Her thighs squeezed, nearly crushing his hips, but he revelled in her tight embrace. He cupped her neck, claiming her lips, savouring her touch as her fingers traced soft patterns over his back, making his skin tingle.

He lifted her, laying her back on the mattress. He smiled at the questioning look in her eyes, then hooked an arm under her knees and back, lifting her. He carried her to the bathroom, climbing into the natural spring that emerged from the wall. He nestled her between his legs, her back against his chest. He wrapped her arms around her waist, settling back in the steaming water. Her fiery hair tickled his chest as she sank into his embrace with a sigh, the water easing some of the battle aches she had not had time to notice.

He swept her hair over her ear. Dried blood was crusted along the bottom edge, a chunk taken from below the tip. The silverite cuff that had once adorned her ear was gone, torn off with the chunk of cartilage.

'Roka, you're hurt.'

He reached to the table beside the spring, grabbing the nearest cloth. He dipped it in the hot water, gently wiping the blood from the wound. She flinched at his touch, and he pulled back.

'It's ok,' she said, 'just tender.'

He knew how sensitive her ears could be. He steadied his hand, gently wiping away the rest of the blood, turning her head to look at the wound.

'It was an arrow, from the genlocks,' she said.

'Any further over and it might have taken off the tip.'

'I would have been half flat-ear.'

Although she laughed, he nuzzled the other tip.

'I love your ears,' he said, 'they're part of you, and you are beautiful.'

She leant her head back against his chest, a smile spreading across her lips.

He tightened his hold on her, placing soft kisses on her neck. The weight of the battle, of their love-making, settled on his shoulders. When she barely stifled a yawn, he forced himself to rise from the spring. He dried himself quickly, then turned to offer his hand. He helped her step over the high stone side and bundled her in a towel.

'We'll ask Wynne to heal it,' he said as he wrapped her ear with a soft cloth.

She trailed her fingers over a raised scar on his bicep.

'No,' she said, 'it will heal on its own, given time. It will be a reminder of what we did, of who we helped.'

He cupped her cheek.

'You are full of surprises, my darling,' he said with a smile.

She took his hand, drawing him back to the bedroom. They climbed beneath the lush covers, and he tucked her against his chest. They talked in whispers until Rokara snuggled tighter against him, her hand covering his heart. Her steady breaths lulled him, and he soon drifted off beside her.

* * *

They woke to a knock. Rokara sat up slowly, holding the covers to her chest. Alistair rolled onto his back with a groan, cracking an eye open. He lifted his head, staring grumpily at the door.

'Do you think, if we ignore them, that they'll go away?'

'I know it is in there. I will open the door if it does not respond.'

'That's a no.'

'Come in, Shale.'

The door swung wide, and the golem angled to get through the frame. Wynne followed closely behind, averting her eyes from the bed.

'Oh, I thought you would be dressed.'

'It would seem, wise one, that they reconciled by rubbing together again.'

'Makers breath,' Alistair muttered, dropping his head back. He rubbed his eyes, 'both of you, please leave.'

'Is it embarrassed about its fleshy needs?'

'No, I just don't want to discuss it with a golem and the lady who is old enough to be my mother.'

'Technically, grandmother,' Wynne said, smirking.

'Making it _worse_ ,' he said, pulling the covers over his head, 'so much worse.'

'Could this wait?' Rokara asked, glancing sideways at Alistair, though she had to stifle a smile.

'I thought it would like to know that the King visited.'

'And I wanted to make sure that you hadn't killed each other,' Wynne said, 'what with all the screaming last night.'

'Sweet Maker, kill me now.'

'Oh Alistair, don't be so dramatic,' Wynne snapped playfully.

'Easy for you to say.'

'All right, everyone, stop,' Rokara said, 'what is so urgent that can't wait for us to at least get dressed?'

'The King has received a report from the surface,' Shale said, 'a high dragon has been sighted circling near Redcliffe. Intelligence suggests it has landed near the village in the Hinterlands. It suggested we might want to pursue it.'

'A… a dragon?' Rokara asked. She had heard that some still roamed the wilds, but it had been a long time since they had threatened a large human population.

'We'll leave you to decide,' Wynne said, directing Shale out of the room. The door closed softly behind them.

Rokara propped herself up on her elbow, pulling the sheet down to Alistair's chest.

He peeked at her with one eye.

'They're gone?'

She laughed. 'Yes.'

'Thank the Maker,' he said, 'for an old mage and a golem, they're a lot of trouble.'

'In a lot of ways, those trouble makers brought us together,' she said, tracing patterns on his chest, 'they saw what was developing between us when we were not ready to see it ourselves.'

'For that, I am grateful,' he said, brushing the back of his fingers over her cheek, 'you know, when they're not barging in on us when we were in bed. Imagine if we had been mid love-making…'

'The _scandal_ ,' Rokara said, laying herself across his chest.

He laughed, revelling in her smile. He wrapped his arms around her, making her gasp as he rolled her beneath him.

'I know we fought a broodmother yesterday,' she said, looping her arms around his neck, 'but… I've never fought a dragon.'

'Mmm?' he said as he dropped his head to her ear, nipping at her skin.

'Do you think we could handle it?'

He rose above her, his brow quirking. 'You want to fight a dragon?'

She bit her bottom lip, and he nearly caved at the devilish look she gave him.

'Maybe,' she said, 'I just know that there is so much of Ferelden that I have never explored, either because I was locked in the Tower, or too scared of Templars to venture beyond the safety of the mountains… until now. I'm safe with you, and… and I want to spend the rest of my life, however long that is, exploring with you.'

Alistair's gaze was intent, searching. Whatever he found in her face made him grin.

'Two mages, a warrior, and a golem walk into the Hinterlands…' he said, dropping to brush his nose against hers before he stole a kiss. He tucked her hair behind her ear, knowing that he would follow her across the world if she asked. 'What could go wrong?'

THE END


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